


Every Impossible Move

by JeSuisPrest



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26630296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeSuisPrest/pseuds/JeSuisPrest
Summary: What if Jamie Fraser found love in the twenty years he was apart from Claire? What if Claire returned to find he seemingly had everything: love, a child, land, family?This story starts on the night before Jamie leaves Helwater."A master looks at every move he would like to make, especially the impossible ones."~Gary Kasparov
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp & Jamie Fraser & Lord John Grey, Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser, Isobel Dunsany/Lord John Grey, Jamie Fraser/Lord John Grey
Comments: 176
Kudos: 260





	1. Opening

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will explore multiple types of relationships and sexuality. There will be explicit same-sex and multi-partner sex. It also depicts Jamie Fraser in a loving, committed relationship with someone other than Claire.
> 
> That all said, this might not be for you, and that's ok! No hard feelings on my end if this particular story is not to your interest. What I will not tolerate is comments that are homophobic, hateful, or otherwise vitriolic. You have the option to just move away from this story if you don't want to read it, and there is no reason to spread hate on a story about love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Many Chess players were surprised when after the game, Fischer quietly explained: ‘I had already analyzed this possibility’ in a position which I thought was not possible to foresee from the opening.  
> ~ Mikhail Tal

[ ](https://ibb.co/7JWc64y)

Jamie Fraser stood outside the stables, surveying the scenery before him. He'd been indentured as a Groom at Helwater, a sprawling estate in the English Lake District owned by the Dunsaney family, for the past eight years. His friend, John Grey, walked out of the stables and stood next to him. John had been Governor of Ardsmuir prison during the time that Jamie had been imprisoned there as a traitor to the Crown. When the prison closed, John had arranged for Jamie to be moved to Helwater in lieu of being sent to the Colonies. Jamie would forever be in his debt for that, and on the eve of his departure, he was about to ask Grey for his service once more.

“Will ye walk wi' me?” he asked John. Not pausing for an answer, he set off past the stable, turning down the lane that led from the paddock to the lower pasture. It was nearly a quarter mile before he came to a halt in a sunny clearing by a clump of willows, near the edge of the mere. He needed absolute privacy for the discussion he was about to have.

Early in his tenure at Helwater, Geneva, Lord Dunsaney's eldest daughter, blackmailed him into taking her maidenhead not long before she was married off to Ludovic Ransom, Eighth Earl of Ellesmere. Nine months later, Jamie's son William was born the same day his mother and putative father had perished.

Though he could never claim Willie as his own, he was grateful he'd been able to be with him the first six years of his life. He'd grown into a braw laddie who loved horses above all else. Because of this, Jamie had been lucky enough to have Willie as his shadow in the stables for the majority of his life.

But, as John had said to him moments ago, "some horses stamp their get." As Willie grew and matured, he was losing the roundness of his baby face, giving way to sharp angles that echoed Jamie’s. They had the same eyes, posture, and mannerisms. The only blessing was that Willie had inherited his mother's chestnut hair as opposed to the fiery red of his father; had he been born a redhead, Jamie would have likely been killed on the spot.

For his son's own good, Jamie was leaving. The Ninth Earl of Ellesmere need never know the truth of his parentage. Jamie, a convicted traitor, would be nothing but an embarrassing stain for the boy. So for the second time in his life, Jamie was faced with the unimaginable pain of leaving his child in the care of another man. At least this time, it would be a man he knew and trusted.

As soon as they reached their destination, Jamie turned to face Grey and said, “I wish tae ask a favor o' ye.”

“Yes,” Grey said promptly.

The corner of Jamie’s mouth twitched. “Ye dinna wish tae ken what it is first?”

“I should imagine that I know; you wish me to look out for Willie; perhaps to send you word of his welfare.”

Jamie nodded. “Aye, that’s it.” He glanced up the slope, to where the house lay half-hidden in its nest of fiery maples. “It’s an imposition, maybe, tae ask ye tae come all the way from London tae see him now and then.”

“Not at all,” Grey interrupted. “I came this afternoon to give you some news of my own; I am to be married.”

“Married?” Jamie asked incredulously “To a woman?” Though they did not often speak of it, Jamie knew that John preferred the company of men.

His mind reeled back to that night at Ardsmuir all those years ago. Despite their obvious imbalance of power, the two men had formed a fast friendship.

_One night, far into the drink, Jamie had spoken to John of his lost love, Claire. He'd barely said her name out loud for ten years, and the relief of finally doing so brought a surprising peace over him. John shared in his grief, telling Jamie of Hector, the love he'd also lost at Culloden. Caught up in their connection, John reached his hand over and placed it on top of Jamie’s._

_The gesture provoked memories of his rape at the hands of Jack Randall. After that horrible ordeal, he'd promised he'd never allow himself to be in that position again. “Take your hand off me,” he said, very, very softly. “Or I will kill you.”_

_The look on John's face as he'd slowly withdrawn his hand made Jamie instantly regret his reaction. He'd known John well enough by then to know he would never subject Jamie to such horrors; it was unfair to lump him into the same category as the depraved monster who'd hurt him so long before._

“I think there are not many alternatives,” Grey replied to Jamie’s question dryly. “But yes, since you ask, to a woman. To the Lady Isobel.”

“Christ, man! Ye canna do that!” Jamie exclaimed. The very thought of John marrying filled him with an odd sense of dread.

“I can,” Grey assured him. “I made a trial of my capacity in London; be assured that I shall make her an adequate husband. You needn’t necessarily enjoy the act in order to perform it.”

Jamie felt himself twitch involuntarily. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and shook his head, thinking better of what he had been about to say.

"Our families have known each other for decades," John went on. "It is an entirely suitable match.”

“Is it, then?” Jamie asked sarcastically. He didn't know why he was reacting so strongly to John's news. He wouldn't be the first man to marry a woman and keep to the company of other men on the side, and Lord knows John would treat Isobel with more respect than most women could only dream of. He had no reason or explanation for the sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of John marrying.

Grey turned to him, fair skin flushing as he answered sharply. “It is. There is more to a marriage than carnal love. A great deal more.”

Jamie turned his back on him then, striding to the edge of the mere. He stood there for some time, taking slow deep breaths, trying to stop the waves of heartsickness that threatened to wash over him. Of course he knew there was more to marriage than bedding your wife. Had he not learned that many years ago?

After Jack Randall had tortured him so effectively that he couldn't even touch his wife without the memories of that horrible night flashing before his eyes, had he not forged an even deeper love with her? Instead of turning away from him or shaming him, she'd loved him fiercely, practically bringing him back from the dead with it. While they'd spent several months celibate, he found a new kind of love for her, something profound and enduring.

He knew he had no right to be judging John, so he slowly walked back to him. Face-to-face with Grey he looked up again. “You're right,” he said quietly. “I have no right to think ill of ye, if ye mean no dishonor tae the lady."

“Certainly not,” Grey said. “Besides,” he added more cheerfully, “it means I will be here permanently, to see to Willie.”

“You mean tae resign yer commission, then?”

“Yes,” Grey said. He smiled, a little ruefully. “It will be a relief, in a way. I was not meant for army life, I think.”

“I should be…grateful, then,” Jamie said, “if you would stand as stepfather tae—tae my son.” He had never spoken the word aloud before, and the sound of it shocked him. “I…would be obliged tae you.”

Jamie swallowed hard, taking great effort to gather the nerve for what he was about to propose. Finally, looking John square in the eye, he said, “In return…If ye want…I mean, I would be willing tae…that is…”

At first, he couldn't interpret the look on Grey's face. He seemed to be going through a slate of emotions at an impossible speed. Jamie waited with bated breath, his stomach flipping with nerves.

Finally, John laid a light hand on Jamie's arm, and said softly, “My dear Jamie, are you actually offering me your body in payment for my promise to look after Willie?” He looked as if he were trying to suppress a laugh, and Jamie felt his face turn red to the roots of his hair.

“Aye, I am,” he snapped, tight-lipped. “D’ye want it, or no?” This was not going at all how he'd planned it, and the humiliation left him cold and empty.

Grey began laughing in long gasping whoops, finally having to sit down on the grassy bank to recover himself. “Oh, dear God,” he said at last, wiping his eyes. “That I should live to hear an offer like that!”

Jamie stood above him, looking down. He knew he should be relieved, but all he could feel was a deep humiliation. He'd opened himself up to John, offered him something he'd never thought he'd give a man willingly, and the wee gomerel was laughing at him.

“Ye dinna want me, then?” he asked through gritted teeth.

Grey got to his feet, dusting the seat of his breeches. “I shall probably want you til the day I die,” he said matter-of-factly. “But tempted as I am—” He shook his head, brushing wet grass from his hands. “Do you really think that I would demand—or accept—any payment for such a service?” he asked. “Really, I should feel my honor most grossly insulted by that offer, save that I know the depth of feeling which prompted it.”

Jamie flushed again. Would this mortification never end? He lowered his head in shame. "I'm sorry, John. I didna mean tae insult yer honor. And I ken ye'd never demand such a thing of me."

John reached a hand up and gently touched Jamie’s cheek, fading now to its normal pale bronze. Quietly, he said, “Besides, you cannot give me what you do not have.”

Jamie could have left it at that. He'd offered; John had refused. He could leave for home the next day with a clear conscience, knowing his son would be cared for by an honorable man. But he didn't want to leave it. He felt a vaguely familiar stirring in his wame, and his breath was picking up speed, though he'd been standing still.

The two men stood silent together for a moment, their eyes locked. Finally, Grey sighed and turned to look up at the sun. “It’s getting late. I suppose you will have a great many things to do today?”

Jamie cleared his throat. “Aye, I have. I suppose I should be about my business.” He tried to move, but felt moored to the spot.

“Yes, I suppose so.” John replied, tugging down the points of his waistcoat, ready to go.

Jamie lingered awkwardly. It was now or never, he told himself. Then, suddenly making up his mind to it, he stepped forward and bent down, cupping Grey’s face between his hands. His skin was silky underneath Jamie's calloused fingers. He grazed the sharp line of John's cheek bone with his thumb. John's tongue peeked out of his mouth involuntarily, wetting his coral lips.

Jamie leaned in slowly. Feelings he'd long ago pushed aside bubbled to the surface, foreign and familiar at the same time. His stomach muscles clenched, his extremities tingled, and his balls began to ache.

He brought his mouth to John's, softly at first. A quiet moan escaped John's lips; when they parted ever so slightly, Jamie gently brushed his tongue against them before tentatively probing further into his mouth. His tongue grazed against John's, eagerly awaiting him, sending a bolt of lightning through his body, urging him on.

He pressed further, moving his hands from John's face to his back. John, who had been standing with arms dangling at his sides in his astonishment, reached up and looped them around Jamie's neck. Their tongues wrestled, mouths opening wider as they grew more confident in their embrace.

As if acting on their own will, Jamie's hands wandered down John's back until they reached his bottom. John groaned and thrust his hips into Jamie's pelvis. Feeling emboldened by John's response, Jamie took a firm hold of each of his round buttocks and squeezed.

It felt different than a woman's, harder, more muscular, but it wasn't unpleasant. As his hands groped and kneaded, an image flashed in his mind of John laying bare before him, Jamie's hands spreading his cheeks wide.

He groaned as the ache in his balls heightened. When he felt the evidence of John's erection press against his leg, his own cock awakened in response. John started to pull away, as if ashamed that he was roused by Jamie's touch, but Jamie was only spurred on. "No," he growled in Grey's ear. "No."

He pressed their mouths together again, leaving one hand firmly on John's backside, keeping their bodies tight together. He slid his other hand between them rubbing up and down along John's length. He’d expected it to feel foreign, but instead it felt erotic. It was firm and warm, and he groaned as he imagined his own cock being stroked by John’s hand.

"Dear god in heaven, Jamie," John gasped, "You'll have me finishing in my breeches if you don’t stop."

Jamie pulled back and gave John a wicked grin. "We canna have that now, can we?" he teased. He pushed John backwards into the willow grove and quickly unbuckled John's belt and pulled down his pants.

When John's erection sprang free, Jamie stepped back, panic threatening to wash over him. _No_ , he told himself, _ye're no' going tae ruin this fer me, Jack Randall._

John must have misinterpreted this brief pause as hesitation on Jamie’s part, because he drew back a little. Jamie reached out his hand though, grabbing John's arm and pulling him closer. He wrapped his arms around him, pulling Grey's head into his chest. Tendrils of John's silken hair tickled him under his chin, and Jamie's hand caressed it delicately, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do.

The moment of lust passed and they both knew it, but the tenderness remained. "I'm sorry," Jamie said quietly, his chin resting on top of John’s head. "I wanted tae; I still do want tae. It's just that there are ghosts from my past that still plague me at times."

John pulled away and quickly put on his breeks. Jamie felt the brief sting of rejection before John lowered himself to the ground, gesturing for Jamie to sit with him. Relieved, Jamie sat down in the grass. John took one of Jamie’s large hands in his own and said, "You can tell me about these ghosts, if you’d like. If you think it will help."

"Aye," Jamie said. "It might."

By the time he'd finished telling John the tale of his time with Jack Randall, he was lying on the ground with his head in John's lap. John stroked his head, running his fingers through his hair so lovingly it made Jamie’s toes tingle. "I'm so sorry that happened to you," John whispered hoarsely. "I can understand why you would be so...repulsed by the thought of being with me."

Jamie sat up quickly and took John's hands in his. "No," he said firmly. "I'm no' repulsed by the idea of being wi' ye. Not ever. Christ, do ye no' see how I burn for ye? I just need ye to understand, if I hesitate, if I need tae take my time, it's naught tae do with ye. But if ye can let me take my time, if ye can tolerate my fits and starts, I ken I can get past it and be what ye need me to be fer ye."

John chuckled softly and took Jamie's face in his hands. "I've waited so long for this, James Fraser. What makes you think I'll give up now?" He leaned in and kissed Jamie tenderly, with no pretense. When their lips parted, Jamie put his head on John's shoulder, relaxing into his warm embrace.

Slowly, the cracks in his heart began to fill, and he knew it was time to step out of the shadows and be the man he'd once been. It was time to start living again.

***

_13 March, Anno Domini 1764_

_Mr James Fraser_

_Lallybroch, Inverness-shire_

_Scotland_

_My dear Jamie:_

_I do hope this letter finds you safely and that you are now embraced in the welcoming Bosom of your loving family. Please send my best Regards to your sister Janet and her husband Ian. Though your Company is greatly missed at Helwater, I am sure that the time with your family is precious, given the length of your absence from them._

_I have been spending time at Helwater this past month doing my level best to avoid being asked an opinion on anything related to Wedding Planning. The few times that I have been pulled in for the deliberations on such important matters as Flower Arrangements and Linen Colors, I was told in no uncertain terms that I have no Taste whatsoever. It is a wonderment that they continue to seek my opinions on such matters, although perhaps it is only so that they know what Not to do._

_In my Mission to avoid these matters altogether, I have spent much time in the Stables with Willie, who says he misses “Mac,” and hopes to see you again very soon. On our first day after your departure, Willie assured me that you had expressly told him that he would be allowed to ride Millyflower after you left. I told him that, since you had not Conveyed this information to me, I would have to write to you to seek your permission; at that he begged me Not to write you and instead acquiesced to riding his Pony instead._

_I have spoken to my Betrothed about our Situation and the arrangements that we plan to make for the Future. I was pleasantly Surprised to find that she is quite amenable to our Proposed arrangements and is happy to accompany us to the Colonies after our Nuptials. I cannot tell you the great Relief I felt, both in having the conversation and finding it to have ended Amicably._

_Having agreed on such, Isobel and I have decided that we will leave Helwater after we are Married. We will sail for the Colonies with William and visit her property in Virginia, which she has never Laid eyes upon. It is my Hope that you will be able to accompany us on this Journey and join us in Virginia. I do understand your rather Quaker predilections toward the keeping of Slaves, but I can assure these would only be Temporary arrangements._

_I have not Forgotten our conversation on your last evening here, and my Intention is to seek Land in either North or South Carolina so that we may begin Building a home and working the Land there. It is my Deepest desire to see this wish of yours Fulfilled. As for myself, I am eager to Begin living a quieter life, even if that means I will have to learn how to work the land. I am sure you will be the most Patient of teachers._

_My Wedding is set for 1 April and we plan to set sail for the Colonies by the end of that month. If this is agreeable to your Circumstances, please send word posthaste and we will arrange to sail from Edinburgh with you. I do hope that we will soon see You; your company is greatly missed. I understand we may not be able to play Chess on our Voyage due to your propensity toward Seasickness, but I will bring my Board nonetheless. If nothing else, Perhaps spending some time brooding over a Game with me will be a welcome distraction to your otherwise unpleasant Circumstances._

_I look forward to Seeing you soon, if that is your desire. Until then, I remain, sir, with all good Wishes toward you and your Family,_

_Your ob’t, servant,_

_John William Grey, Esq._

_Helwater Estate, Lake District_

_England_

***

_1 April, Anno Domini 1764_

_Lord John Grey_

_Helwater Estate, Lake District_

_England_

_My lord,_

_I am in Receipt of your correspondence dated 13 March and must first give you my most Heartfelt congratulations on your marriage to the lovely Lady Dunsaney, though by the time this Letter reaches you, she will be Lady Grey._

_As For my journey home, I can say that as I traveled, my heart felt lighter than it has in many years. I have you, my dearest friend, to thank for that. The burdens weighing on my soul do not trouble me so much as they did since you allowed me to disencumber myself of them._

_When I arrived home, I found my family to all be in Good health, though much changed. Most of my nieces and nephews are Grown now, with bairns of their own, who have taken to following me around calling me "Nunkie," and requesting endless Stories. I must confess that though I am home, it does not feel like Home._

_For that Reason, I am pleased to hear that Lady Grey is Receptive to our plans. I cannot help but marvel at your good fortune in finding such a Complaisant wife. Now that I know our plans are in Motion, I find it much easier to Bear the passing time in this place that is both familiar and foreign all at once._

_I will leave for Edinburgh in time to Meet you at the end of the month and will fill the Time until then with thoughts of the Home we will build in the Colonies. I don't know if I can ever Express to you how pleased I am that You are willing to take this great Risk with me. It will be Hard work, as you know, but I vow to be a Forbearing teacher._

_Please send my love to William and tell Him that when we are Settled in the Colonies we will be sure to build fine stables and fill them with Horses. Until then, I hope he is behaving well and has Made no further efforts to Deceive you. Also pass along my Gratefulness and thanks to Lady Isobel for being so very Accommodating._

_I Very much look forward to seeing you. It is my Wish that we will have plenty of time to speak of our Future plans. I do Believe it is wishful thinking on your part that we may be able to Play chess once Aboard the ship but your Company will be welcome all the same._

_Until that time we shall meet, I remain,_

_Your ob’t, servant,_

_James Fraser_

_Lallybroch, Inverness-shire_

_Scotland_

***

Jamie paced in his room at the World's End Tavern, his fingers drumming a relentless beat against his leg as he moved. He had arrived in Edinburgh on the 25th; was it possible that he had missed them?

Even worse, what if John had changed his mind? They'd made many promises to each other that last night at Helwater, but promises made under the soft glow of the moon often looked very different when elucidated by the sun. Perhaps Jamie had read too much into his letters.

He'd left word at several inns and visited the docks twice a day, hoping for word that they'd arrived. There was nothing else to do but wait. Tired of pacing in his tiny room, he grabbed his coat and tricorn hat and left the inn.

The weather was sunny and the cool, April air felt soothing on his face as he walked through the congested streets. He kept alert, constantly scanning the crowds for John's face. He covered miles upon miles as he navigated the labyrinthine streets of Edinburgh, but nothing could ease the anxious feeling in his wame.

Exhausted and hungry, he turned and looped his way back the way he had come. Finally, he approached the World's End and his heart leapt into his throat. _Could it be them?_ The man and the woman had his back to him, but they were finely dressed and Jamie was certain he'd recognize John anywhere.

He picked up his pace and suddenly a little boy with dark curls darted into the streets, barreling towards Jamie shouting, "Mac!"

Jamie ran forward and scooped his son up in his arms, unable to stop the tears of joy from flowing down his cheeks. "Willie, _a chuisle_ ," he said hoarsely, holding the boy close to his chest, "I'm so glad tae see ye."

"I missed you, Mac," Willie replied, burying his face in Jamie’s shoulder. He carried the lad as he walked toward John and Isobel.

"It's good tae see ye both," he said, grinning so hard his face hurt. He put Willie down and took Isobel's hand in his, kissing it lightly. "Lady Grey," he said.

She smiled and pulled him in for a hug. "It is good to see you, Mr. Fraser."

When they pulled away from each other, Jamie glanced at John. Their eyes met and Jamie felt like there were bubbles in his wame. They gave each other slight bows of greeting.

“Well,” John said, “shall we find out about getting passage on a ship? Isobel, darling, why don’t you take Willie upstairs to our room and Mr. Fraser and I will walk down to the docks.”

“Nooooo!!!!!!” Willie wailed. “I want to go with you and Mac!!!!”

Jamie crouched down next to the lad and put his hand on his shoulder. “Willie, ‘tis a long walk and I’m sure ye’re already worn out from yer journey."

Willie straightened his back and pulled at the hem of his coat. "I am _not_ tired and I want to go with you! I'm old enough to help take care of business."

Jamie suppressed a chuckle; he could feel his lips twitching dangerously, but he kept a straight face and tousled Willie's hair. "Alright, lad. Ye can come wi' us, but ye're walking the whole way there and back. Dinna ask either of us tae carry ye, aye?"

Willie nodded, "I promise, Mac."

Jamie stood and exchanged an amused glance with John as the three headed off in the direction of the docks.

***

Willie made good on his promise on the way to the docks. They were lucky enough to purchase passage on a ship leaving in two days' time. Jamie’s heart felt lighter as they headed back to the World's End.

"I know we have a long journey ahead of us, but I feel like we are getting closer to our destination every day," John said as they walked slowly. Willie was running ahead of them and then circling back every few minutes.

"Aye, we are, John. We are." Jamie glanced around to make sure nobody was looking and then quickly gave John's hand a squeeze before pulling away again. John smiled, the color rising in his cheeks.

Willie circled back around then, dragging his feet. "What's the matter, Willie?" John asked.

"I'm tiiiirrreeed," Willie whined.

Jamie threw his head back and laughed. He knew he should be annoyed with the lad, but he was so happy to be with him again, he couldn't help his amusement. "Are ye now, lad?" Jamie teased.

"Yes, I am," he pouted.

"And what would you like us to do about that?" John asked, exchanging an amused look with Jamie.

Willie cast his eyes to the ground and mumbled something. "What was that?" Jamie asked. He was practically shaking with laughter.

Willie looked up at him defiantly, his blue eyes giving away his shame. "Will you carry me, Mac?"

Jamie’s eyes softened as he looked at Willie's tired eyes. "Aye, come here laddie." He reached out his arms and picked Willie up. Willie's head automatically fell on Jamie’s shoulder and soon he felt the rhythmic breathing of sleep against his chest.

"He's spoiled enough, you know," John spoke softly. "You really shouldn't indulge him like that."

"I ken, John. And I willna do this every time. I'm just so glad tae be able to hold him and care for him as my son. Just a wee bit more spoiling willna hurt anything."

John sighed and gave Jamie a warm smile. "I understand Jamie; I truly do."

They walked in silence the rest of the way. When they reached the tavern, Jamie brought Willie up to John's room. Isobel greeted them as Jamie laid Willie in the bed and John told Isobel of their travel plans.

"It all sounds lovely," Isobel replied.

John and Jamie settled in for a game of chess while they waited for Willie to wake up from his nap. He did so about an hour later and the family headed downstairs for supper.

As they ate their meal, John joked about the volume of food Jamie was eating. "I have tae get my fill now and put some meat on my bones," Jamie informed him. "Once I'm on the ship, I willna be able tae keep anything down. We'll be lucky if I dinna waste away before we reach the Colonies."

"I am worried about that," John told him. "You like to joke about it but it is a real concern of mine." Jamie could see the genuine apprehension in his eyes.

"John," he said gently. The urge to reach out and touch John's hand reassuringly was almost too great to resist. "We all will die someday, but I dinna think sea sickness will be the way I meet my demise."

Jamie felt a tap on his shoulder then. He turned to see who it was and found a wee Chinese man sitting at the table behind him. "Hello," Jamie greeted him. "Can I help ye?"

"Sorry to interrupt," the man said with a thick accent, "My name Ye Tien Cho. I overhear you speak of sea sickness. I have experience treating sea sickness and am looking for passage to the Colonies."

Jamie looked at him curiously. "James Fraser," he told him as he took Ye Tien Cho's hand and shook it awkwardly. "What exactly are ye proposing?"

"You pay my passage; I treat your sea sickness, make trip more pleasant."

"And how do I ken ye arena going tae cheat us? Ye could take the passage and then do nothing fer me."

The man put his right hand over his heart and raised his left. "On my honor, I swear to honor our deal. If not able to treat your sea sickness, you have me arrested when we reach Colonies."

Jamie recognized something in the man's eyes, a look of truth and honor. "Alright then," Jamie said. "We have a deal. We'll purchase your passage tomorrow, Ye Tien Cho."

The man smiled and nodded. "Very good. Will not disappoint."

Jamie turned back to his family and continued their meal. It was a strange but welcome feeling to be sitting at the table with John and Isobel as equals. He had especially worried about Isobel not being able to treat him as her peer, but it seemed natural to her, as if she had been faking her airs before instead of the other way around.

Toward the end of the meal, he felt John's foot nudging him under the table. When Isobel got up to take Willie back to bed, John pressed his foot over Jamie’s. Jamie stayed put and once Isobel was out of earshot, John winked at him and said, "Later, after everyone is asleep, I'll come to you."

Jamie gulped and nodded slowly as John got up and left. All of his anxieties from earlier in the day dissolved into a volcano of excitement that he felt deep in his core. John wanted him, and tonight was the night.

He had to sit at the table a few extra minutes for propriety's sake before following them.

***

Before Willie went to sleep, they all gathered in the room Willie was sharing with Isobel and, ostensibly, John to talk with Willie as frankly as they could about their new situation. John lifted him onto the edge of the bed next to Isobel and then retreated to stand at the foot of the bed with Jamie nearby. The room was filled with nervous energy, all of the adults trying to figure out how to strike a balance between selling their new family as a good thing while also giving the impression that it was all perfectly normal.

"William," Isobel started, "now that we're going to be starting over in a new place, as a family, I think it's important for you to understand something we haven't told you before. Mac, he is...well, he's….one of your fathers."

"I have more than one father?" Willie asked, holding up his fingers and trying to count them.

John crouched down so he was eye to eye with him. "Yes, you have three. Your father in heaven, Mac, and me."

"Aren't you a lucky boy!" Isobel said. Jamie gave her a grateful smile for her efforts at trying to keep the conversation light for Willie.

"How come nobody told me Mac was my father?" he asked indignantly.

"You're grandmother doesn't like Mac very much," John told him in a conspiratorial voice, "so we had to keep it a secret from her."

Willie turned to Jamie and gave him a conspiratorial smile. "Like when you made me a secret Papist!"

Jamie blushed a deep red as Isobel and John both turned to look at him. He cleared his throat and answered, "Aye, like that."

Willie's brow furrowed as he tried to connect all the pieces of new information. Finally he looked at Isobel and said, "I have three fathers." He held up three fingers of one hand and two on the other. "And two mothers. But what will I call you so you don't get all mixed up?"

"Well, you can still call us Papa and Mother Isobel, if you like," John told him.

"What about you, Mac?" Willie asked, turning his attention back to Jamie.

Jamie walked over and sat on the other side of him. "Well, ye can keep callin' me Mac if it's easier fer ye, or ye can call me Da, if ye like."

"Da…," William tried out the word. "I've never heard that before."

"It's what the Scots call their father. Ye're a Scot, too, ye ken. Just as much as ye are English."

William scrunched up his nose in confusion and turned to John. "Am I still the ninth Earl of Ellesmere?"

"Yes," John answered, "but where we're going that isn't going to matter very much. The Colonies are different from England."

William was quiet for a moment and then asked, "Will there be horses?"

Jamie laughed and put an arm around him, "We already told ye there would be. Now, it's time tae get some sleep."

***

Back in his room, Jamie prepared for bed, washing his face and stripping down to his sark. He had no idea when John would come, and he certainly didn’t want to fall asleep waiting for him, so he paced the room anxiously. Finally, Jamie heard a soft knock. He nearly launched himself at the door, but caught himself and gripped the handle taking several calming breaths before opening it just a crack to let John in.

“Good evening,” John said in his typically polite manner.

 _How can he stand there and act so courtly when all I want to do is ravage him?_ Jamie thought.

“Hello,” Jamie replied, suddenly feeling very foolish standing there in his sark while John was fully dressed. “Would ye like something tae drink? I have some whisky.”

“A dram would be just fine,” John replied, looking around the room.

“Please, have a seat,” Jamie told him, indicating the small table that was set up in the corner of the sparse room.

John nodded and sat down primly, straightening his shirt and running his hands over his breeks to prevent wrinkles. Jamie could feel John’s eyes on him as he turned to pour their drinks. Having anticipated this moment for so long, Jamie suddenly found himself shy and nervous. His hands trembled slightly as he walked the drinks to the table.

He set John's glass down in front of him; John's hand reached toward the glass but grabbed Jamie’s hand instead. _Damn the drinks_ , Jamie thought as he pulled John out of the chair and embraced him, bringing their lips together passionately. He ran his hands through John's hair as their tongues twisted around each other.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Jamie gave John a mischievous smile. "I canna tell ye how I've yearned tae feel yer lips on mine again. The last two months have been torture."

"Two months?" John replied. "Try waiting almost ten years."

"Ye'll wait no more, John. Nor will ye ever have tae again." He kissed John's lips and then moved down to taste the sharp line of his jaw, then the delicate skin of his neck. "I plan tae have my lips on ye as much as possible from now on."

Jamie dropped his hands and grasped at John's belt as he continued exploring him with his mouth. He released the clasp and pushed John's breeks to the floor. Their shirts were long enough to cover their cocks, but both men were hard, their excitement obvious under the thin material. Jamie’s stomach clenched pleasurably as he felt them brush together through the flimsy garments.

Jamie stepped back and untied his shirt sleeves, lifting the sark over his head. John's eyes greedily took all of him in, reaching out his hand and ghosted it across the lines of Jamie’s collar bones, the contours of his chest, the hard lines of his torso. He trailed his fingers further down and ran them through the patch of copper hair on Jamie's pubic bone. Jamie gasped, his cock twitching at the welcome intrusion.

John's hand hovered over Jamie’s erection. "Is this alright?" he asked.

Jamie swallowed hard and nodded, and John folded his hand around his length. Jamie's entire body relaxed as John caressed his cock with a firm hold and tender strokes. Jamie emitted a sound that was almost a sob, and bent his head down to rest it on John's shoulder. After a few moments, Jamie reached down and lifted the hem of John's shirt, wanting nothing between them.

Gently, he pushed John's hand off and lifted the shirt over John's head. He reached out and touched John's chest; experimenting, he took John's nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, gently squeezing. John moaned giving Jamie all the encouragement he needed to push John toward the bed and lift him on it.

John leaned back on his hands as Jamie moved between his legs, hovering over him and lowering his mouth to his chest. He sucked and teased at John's nipples, spurred on by John's moans and the feeling of John’s cock between them, brushing against his body.

Suddenly, he pulled John upright and placed his hand on John's cock, teasing the head with his thumb as he gently squeezed and kneaded his shaft. "John," he whispered hoarsely, "I want tae take ye. Will ye have me?"

John reached one arm up and pulled their heads close together. "Yes, James Fraser. I'll have you." Their lips came together in a tender kiss.

"I dinna ken exactly what tae do, John. Will ye guide me?" Jamie asked.

John nodded his head. "Of course," he said breathily. He scooted off the bed and walked over to where his trousers were lying on the floor. "I brought something that will make it easier." He crouched down and plucked a small glass vial out of the pockets. "Some oil," he said, glancing down at Jamie’s large cock, and swallowing hard.

John walked back to the bed and put the vial in Jamie’s hand. Jamie kissed him again, his lips trembling as the moment of their joining became imminent. He turned John around, and John obediently bent over the bed. "This will be easiest, for your first time," John told him.

Jamie opened the vial and poured some of the oil into his hands, rubbing it between his fingers. "Rub some on yourself," John instructed. "And then you'll need to use it, erm….inside me. And it helps if you stretch me out a bit first." His voice shook as he spoke and Jamie wasn't sure if he was nervous or excited.

"Aye," Jamie replied. He rubbed the oil up and down the length of his shaft and then poured more on his hands. He adjusted John's body a bit and then gingerly pushed one finger between his cheeks, feeling for John's entrance. When he found it, he prodded tentatively, until his finger slipped in. John gasped as Jamie moved his finger experimentally, learning the inside of his lover's body for the first time.

As Jamie became more confident, he slicked his hand with more oil and slipped in two fingers. With his other hands, he reached down and stroked John's balls. He could see the pace of John's breathing increasing.

Finally, as if he couldn't wait a moment longer, John gasped, "I need you inside me, Jamie."

Jamie pulled back his hands and steadied himself, placing one hand on John's ass and the other on his own cock. Carefully, he guided himself to John's entrance. He briefly wondered how something so large was going to fit in something so small, but the thought of how tight he imagined it would be urged him on and he pressed forward slowly.

There was slight resistance at first, but then he felt John relax underneath him and he slid in. Both men groaned in relief and Jamie pushed further. He watched himself fill John one inch at a time. Despite his slow movements, his entire body broke out in a sweat. He pressed on steadily, until finally his pelvis rested against John's ass.

"Oh God," Jamie said. He leaned his upper body forward and rested it on John's back. Tenderly, he kissed John's neck and whispered in his ear, "Does it feel alright? I'm no' hurtin' ye, am I?"

John reached his hand back and grabbed Jamie’s arm reassuringly. "No, Jamie, you're not hurting me. To be filled by you, it feels amazing."

Jamie lifted himself up and started thrusting, slowly at first. "Oh Christ, John, ye're so tight," he groaned, grabbing John's hips and moving faster. He looked down and watched himself sliding in and out, his cock surrounded by John.

As Jamie increased his speed, John gripped the blankets and grunted with each thrust. "Jamie. Jamie. Jamie."

Hearing John chanting his name was almost too much for Jamie to bear. He doubled his efforts, driving into him. John cried out and Jamie's balls tightened. He didn't want their joining to end so quickly but he couldn't control himself; he let go, pulsing inside John as he filled him with his seed. Jamie collapsed on John's back, panting and nibbling at his shoulders.

"Christ, John. I never imagined that would feel so good," Jamie said as he slowly pulled his cock out. "Did ye like it?"

John turned around. He sat up and took Jamie in his arms. "Yes, Jamie. You were wonderful."

As John drew him near, Jamie felt John's cock, still rigid and unsatisfied. "John, forgive me for being so selfish."

"It's alright," John said, chuckling and cupping Jamie’s face in his hands. "I could tell you were a little overwhelmed."

Jamie smiled and kissed him. "I'll make it up to ye, aye?" He crawled onto the bed and beckoned for John to join him. When John was sitting up against the headboard, Jamie spread John's legs and crawled between them. He smiled nervously. "I dinna ken exactly how tae do this, John. I'm sorry ye have tae suffer such an inexperienced fool. I'll do my best though, and ye tell me if I'm doing anything wrong."

"Jamie please stop apologizing," John said. "I've never been so happy in all my life; you have nothing to be sorry for."

Jamie smiled and kissed a trail down John's chest. When he reached his erection he slowly lowered his mouth over it, teasing the head with his tongue as he took him in.

Buggering John had been one thing; the destination was a little different but Jamie's movements had been similar enough to bedding a woman that he'd been fairly confident. This, though, was foreign to him, and he could only hope to do well enough so as to please John, even a little.

He began moving his mouth up and down on John's shaft. John's moans encouraged him and he continued, trying different movements with his tongue and varying the rhythm and suction, paying close attention to John's reactions. Remembering the ways he'd been pleasured in the past, he put his hand on the base of John's cock and started pumping in tandem with his mouth.

John made a strangled sound and gasped, "Oh God, Jamie. I can’t...I can’t hold back much longer."

Jamie knew he could move his mouth away, finish John with his hands, but he wanted this. He wanted to feel John pulsing in his mouth so he kept on until John let go with a string of expletives that almost made Jamie choke as he swallowed John's juices.

"What's that smile for?" John asked, running his fingers through Jamie's curls.

"I didna think I'd ever live tae see the day that I'd hear such language coming from the mouth of Lord John Grey," Jamie teased. He sat up and took John's face in his hands. "Ye've a filthy mouth under all yer fancy airs, and I love it." He planted a wet kiss on John's lips before rolling over and lying next to him.

John slid down until he was curled up next to Jamie, resting his head on his shoulder. "I think you'll find I have many surprises in store for you, James."

"I bet ye do," Jamie teased, "And I canna wait for all of them." He wrapped his arms around John and nuzzled his head in John's hair.

It felt wonderful to be in the arms of someone he loved again. The sex was amazing, but that could be gotten anywhere. It was the intimacy that he had missed the most all those long, lonely years. To fall asleep tangled up with your lover was a beautiful thing.

He felt himself drifting off and could hear John's breathing steadying. "Good night John," he whispered. "I love ye."

John's voice was choked when he answered back, "I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to those who are new readers for me! Find me on twitter @sassenach7471


	2. Out of Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The work was harder than either of them could have imagined. It was completely untouched wilderness. Every tree had to be felled, every stone removed from the earth, and that was only to get a small cabin built. They'd been living in close quarters in a small shelter made of large tree branches; there was barely room for anything but the five of them: Jamie, John, Willie, Isobel, and Yi Tien Cho, affectionately known as Mr. Willoughby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally managed to finish chapter two! Work has been really insane lately but I hope the worst of that is over soon so I can get back to a more regular schedule.

[ ](https://ibb.co/ngCnSQJ)

_**September 1764** _

**_Fraser's Ridge, North Carolina_ **

"Da! Look what I found!"

Jamie looked up from his work and smiled to see Willie running toward him at top speed, his little arm stretched out in triumph. Jamie squatted down as Willie came closer and halted in his tracks at the last second. He had grown since they had set sail from Edinburgh, and his cheeks had changed from a pale white to a ruddy pink from all his time outdoors.

"What's this?" Jamie asked, peering at the small object in his son's hand. "Oh, I see. That's an Indian arrowhead."

Willie's eyes went wide with wonder. "Do you think there were savages here?"

"Dinna call them that," Jamie said gently, but firmly. "They're people just like ye. They may have different ways of doing things, but they're not savages. Not anymore than we are tae them."

Willie nodded solemnly. "Yes, Da."

"Now run along and fetch that wood like I asked ye tae. If ye find any more arrowheads, ye can keep them, aye?"

Willie nodded, then ran off, still carrying his prize in his hands. Jamie stood and surveyed his work. When they’d been offered ten thousand acres of land by Governor Dobbs, Jamie had known it would be hard work to clear the land and build a home. But the opportunity to have their own land, deep in the backwoods, away from the prying eyes of society, both Jamie and John had jumped at the opportunity.

The work was harder than either of them could have imagined. It was completely untouched wilderness. Every tree had to be felled, every stone removed from the earth, and that was only to get a small cabin built. They'd been living in close quarters in a small shelter made of large tree branches; there was barely room for anything but the five of them: Jamie, John, Willie, Isobel, and Yi Tien Cho, affectionately known as Mr. Willoughby.

Mr. Willoughby had continued to travel with the family, first to Mount Josiah, Isobel's plantation, and then to River Run, the plantation of Jamie's Aunt Jocasta, where they met Governor Dobbs. Thanks to their experience as soldiers and John's impeccable reputation, it wasn’t long before the Governor offered them a huge plot of land in the mountains.

They would soon have to start looking for settlers to join them, but for now, the task at hand was getting a solid roof over their heads before the snow began to fly. He'd already built a wee smokehouse so they'd have preserved meat for the winter, and Jamie thanked his lucky stars for Mr. Willoughby because, as it turned out, Isobel knew nothing of cooking or preserving foods. She was an eager learner, though, and Willoughby had taken her under his wing.

Despite her domestic shortcomings, Isobel was nothing short of a Saint. She'd been more than happy to allow John and Jamie's relationship blossom. All she asked was to be a part of the family and a mother to Willie.

"It's coming along nicely." John's soft voice broke Jamie’s reverie. He turned and smiled at him. Though they were careful about touching each other too much when there were others about, they exchanged a look that said everything Jamie would have liked to have said with his body.

It was a delicate dance that they were still getting acquainted with, living this life together. John was accustomed to being discreet in public, but Jamie had never had to before. It was hard, sometimes, to not wrap an arm around John's waist when they stood by side or kiss him whenever he wanted to.

Because, _Christ_ , he loved the man. The devil might take him after his life on earth was done, but Jamie didn't care. He had thought he would never feel love in his heart again, not a love like this, and if that meant he had to stand before the pearly gates and tell Saint Peter that he'd spent the better part of his life buggering John Grey, then so be it.

"Aye," Jamie answered, "It has four walls at least, but no roof yet."

"That won't take long. We'll manage it in no time." John grabbed Jamie's fingers and gave them a brief squeeze before pulling away.

"How're ye coming wi' those trees?" Jamie asked.

"Quite well. We'll have to fell a few more soon, I think. I should have the last lot chopped by sundown."

Jamie nodded. "I'll ask Isobel and Willoughby about the meat stores at lunch. I wish we had more help. Fergus must have gotten my letter about joining us by now.”

"I'm sure you'll hear from him soon. I doubt he would try to take the journey now, with winter coming. By the time he arrives we'll have a roof over our heads. And in the spring we'll start looking for tenants. I can see it all, Jamie. We're going to have a wonderful life here, together."

"Papa!" Willie exclaimed as he ran over, still waving the arrowhead in the air. "Look what I found!"

***

_13 September, Anno Domini 1764_

_Col. Harry Quarry, Esq_

_London, England_

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope this Letter finds you well. By now I am Sure my Brother will have told you about my Departure from England. I am now Settled on a large Estate called Fraser’s Ridge, Fraser being the name of my new Business partner. If Hal has not informed you of that, I do hope it is not too Shocking for you to Find out that I have gone into Business with the Man once known as Red Jamie. He and I developed a Friendship during his time at Ardsmuir that continued when he was paroled at Helwater, my Wife’s family estate._

_As you are well Aware, before Mr. Fraser was a Traitor and prisoner, he was a well-appointed Landowner in Scotland, Laird Broch Tuarach. We have much in Common and Share similar Values. When he was being Released from his Parole and took a Pledge of loyalty to our Sovereign King George III, we discussed his Future plans, and I Discovered his wish was to emigrate to the Colonies and Eventually become a maker of Whisky there. Being newly married, my wife, Isobel, and I decided to join him with our stepson, William._

_All of this is said so that you May understand the Favor of which I am about to ask. If you recall, Mr. Fraser was Imprisoned with one of his kinsmen, a Murtagh Fitzgibbons. Mr. Fitzgibbons was sent to the Colonies to be indentured when Ardsmuir closed, and, since arriving here, we have been unable to discover where he is now Located._

_Mr. Fitzgibbons is very important to Mr. Fraser, and he worries Endlessly about him, as the Man was not in good health at the time of His departure. I would ask that you make Inquiries as to his whereabouts so that I may perhaps put Mr. Fraser’s mind at ease. Any information you may obtain can be sent to me at Fraser’s Ridge, North Carolina Territory._

_If you should happen to see my Brother, do tell him to stop being such an Obdurate clot. He did not agree with my plans to come here and I’m sure he is Worrying our mother with endless Labrish._

_I have Faith that you will be able to use your Connections to discover Mr. Fitzgibbons placement. I thank you most profusely in advance for your assistance in this matter._

_As always, I remain,_

_Your ob’dt servant_

_Lord John Grey, Esq._

_Fraser’s Ridge, North Carolina_

***

After dinner that night, as had become their custom, Jamie took out his small statue of Saint Anthony and several candles. He lit them all and the family kneeled around them. Though none were Catholic except Jamie, they had all come to look forward to this evening ritual; it was a way to find peace before laying their heads for the night.

Jamie started with the Lord’s prayer, something that all of them knew. Then they each went around and prayed for the souls of those lost to them. Jamie went first. “Please hold my wife Claire gently in your hands. Ensure that my child is with her, and that they are both safe.” He knew he was being deceptive about their whereabouts, allowing his family to assume he was speaking of Claire’s soul and that of Faith, the child they had lost. Jamie did not like keeping secrets from John, but there was no way he could make John understand that Claire was, hopefully, still alive and living in another time with their daughter. It was easier this way.

He then prayed for his parents and his brother, Willie. And that his godfather Murtagh may be found alive and well someday soon. John prayed for his lost friend, Hector, and Jamie gave him a gentle, knowing look; only he knew the depths of the love John had for his deceased lover. William and Isobel prayed for the soul of Geneva, making Jamie cringe inside. Still, he knew it was important to both of them. Willoughby spoke in Chinese for his prayers, and would not tell any of them whom he was praying for.

That night, William asked Jamie and John to put him to bed. They sat on either end of his small pallet and Jamie stroked the boy’s soft curls. “Da, will you tell me about Lallybroch again?” William requested.

“Aye,” Jamie replied softly. “‘Tis a beautiful place made by my father’s own hands. Yer grandfather took pride in having his own small estate and our tenants were all like family. I grew up playing on the land wi’ my brother Willie, sister Jenny, and my best friend, Ian Murray. We got into all sorts of trouble. Mam and Da were always catching us up to some sort of mischief.

“One day we found a well-concealed cave and hid there for two days. My parents were worried sick about us. When we finally arrived home, William got the thrashing of his life, Jenny and I being too young for a thrashing. He took all the blame for it and afterwards told us that it was worth it to have spent those two days of fun with us.” Jamie paused and looked at John, who was watching carefully and chuckling; he gestured toward Willie and Jamie saw that he was fast asleep already. The fresh air and hard work was doing the boy good.

They tiptoed quietly out of the shelter and headed out for the nightly walk. It was getting dark earlier, so Jamie carried a lantern in one hand and held John's hand firmly with the other. Amidst all the hard work and the chaos of living in such close quarters, it was nice to get away for a while everyday, just the two of them.

"Perhaps day after next I can go hunting," Jamie commented. "I just need to get that cabin finished or we'll all freeze tae death at the first frost."

John squeezed his hand reassuringly. "We'll finish it, Jamie. I have every confidence in you."

They reached a small clearing where the moon shone through a break in the trees. Jamie had come to think of it as their spot. He set the lantern down on a flat rock and turned to John. "I dinna ken what I'd do wi'out ye, John. I hope ye ken that." He leaned forward and brought his lips to John's softly. "I need ye so badly tonight," he breathed into John's mouth.

John pressed his lips against Jamie's firmly and they both sank to the ground on their knees as their tongues tumbled around each other. "You're so stressed," John said when he came up for air. "Let me help you relax." He pushed Jamie back until Jamie's bottom was on the ground. Jamie spread his legs out in front of him and John crawled in between them, lifting Jamie's tented kilt.

Jamie's cock was hard and it twitched when John ran his hands up Jamie's thighs. His touch was firm and deliberate, allowing Jamie to feel like he could let go of control and let John take the lead. He loved it when John was like this, when he took charge, leaving Jamie vulnerable to whatever John had in mind.

It didn't take long that night for John to make his intentions known. He lowered his head and took Jamie in his mouth. Heat spread up and down his body as John swirled his tongue around Jamie's sensitive head and then pushed down further to take more of him in. Jamie reached one hand out and gripped his lover's hair gently, letting John continue to set the pace. "Oh Christ, John," he groaned, "Ye ken how tae make forget everything." He threw his head back and let John lull him into a place where nothing existed but him and John and love and pleasure.

He hadn't meant to meet his release so early, but he was so lost in the moment that he suddenly found himself shooting his seed into John's mouth. John looked up and met Jamie's eyes as he swallowed, slowly milking everything he could be before pulling away. Jamie sighed and laid back on the cold ground with his eyes closed, relishing the relief John had given him. John pulled Jamie's kilt down but stayed between his legs, laying down and resting his head on Jamie's stomach.

"Hmmrrmphh," Jamie mumbled as he placed his hands on John's hair and stroked his head gently.

"Was that a good sound or a bad sound?" John teased.

"It's always good sounds fer you, my love. Now come here and let me get some good sounds out of ye." Jamie hoisted himself and stood, pulling John with him. He backed John up against a nearby tree and wasted no time pulling down his breeks.

Jamie licked his lips at the sight of John’s hard cock. With a grunt, he reached his arms around and grabbed handfuls of John’s firm, bare arse, pulling him in close. He moved face in for a kiss, but just before their lips met, he breathed into John’s open mouth, “Ye make me want tae do the filthiest things to ye.”

John shivered as the fingers of one of Jamie’s hands started to creep toward the center of John’s bottom. “Like what?” he asked with a groan. Jamie pressed his lips to John’s at the same time as he plunged a finger into John’s hot, tight center.

“Oh dear god,” John called out, his knees nearly giving way. Jamie held onto him until he was steadier. John allowed his head to fall on Jamie’s shoulder as Jamie added a second finger inside.

“Ye alright, man?” Jamie whispered in his ear, adding a nibble for good measure. “I’ve got more fer ye.”

He felt John’s Adam's apple bob against his shoulder as John managed to croak out, “Yes.”

He pushed John’s upper half back so it was supported by the tree. Then, he moved his other hand around to the front and gripped John’s cock firmly. It was awkward at first, a bit like trying to rub your stomach and pat your head, but he eventually found a steady rhythm, thrusting his fingers into John with one hand while his other jerked at his cock. It wasn’t long before Jamie felt John’s arse tighten around his fingers as he throbbed in Jamie’s other hand, spilling his seed on Jamie’s kilt.

Both men laughed together as Jamie tried to clean up the mess. “Should have taken ye in my mouth,” Jamie teased. “Much less mess tae deal with.” He sat down at the base of the tree and John settled in between his legs, leaning his head on Jamie's chest. Jamie wrapped his arms around him and kissed the back of John's head, nuzzling his nose into John's hair.

"The days will be getting shorter soon," John remarked.

"Aye," Jamie replied. "Won't be long until we willna be able tae take our walks, but dinna fash. I'll at least have a real roof over our heads by then."

"Ah, yes! We'll all be squeezed into one small cabin instead of the shelter," John teased.

"Aye, but we'll have the shelter tae escape to."

They both chuckled but soon fell into a comfortable silence, feeling the rise and fall of each other's chests, savoring each other's company. Finally, reluctantly, John said, "We should be getting back. It’s getting late and we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

“Aye, we do.” Jamie turned John's face to him for another kiss, slow and deep, before they headed back to the shelter.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know,” John teased, giving Jamie’s hand a squeeze. “Sometimes you kiss me as if you’ll never see me again.”

Jamie looped his arm around John’s as they walked, pulling him in close. “I’ve learned tae never take love’s presence for granted.”

“Yes,” John replied, leaning his head onto Jamie’s shoulder. “I suppose we both have.”

When they reached the shelter they both stripped down to their sarks, lying down a respectable distance from each other. It didn’t matter, though; they would more often than not awaken in each other’s arms, drawn together like magnets.

John fell asleep first and Jamie listened to his steady breathing. He reached out and put his hand over John’s heart, feeling its rhythmic thump faintly beneath him. Silently he prayed to Saint Margaret to look over his family and his love. Finally he thanked the Lord for a second chance at a life of happiness, for restoring his soul, and breathing new life into his heart.


	3. Doubled Rooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie’s head spun as he tried to make sense of the snippets of conversation he’d managed to hear. Who on earth could John be looking for? And the coin and danger? None of it made sense, but the part that bothered him the most was that John was obviously keeping it from Jamie. He thought they shared everything, and couldn’t think of a single reason for John to keep anything from him, unless…

[ ](https://ibb.co/3h8LRfT)

_**October 1764** _

**_Fraser's Ridge, North Carolina_ **

Jamie placed the ladder against the edge of the loft he’d just put the finishing touches on. It was the final step in achieving some sense of normalcy and privacy, and it had been a long time coming. They’d started with only the shelter. Then when the first cabin was built, they’d all crowded in there as the nights got colder. Finally the second cabin had gone up, but he and John had spent their first few days in it sleeping on a pallet on the floor, Willie less than ten feet away. Jamie and John had spent their nights longing to sleep together like a husband would with his...well, husband, Jamie supposed. He shook his head, still having difficulty at times putting words to the nature of his relationship with John.

It wasn’t the feelings that were missing. He loved John with all his heart, there was no doubt in that. It was only that the life they were building was anathema to everything he had understood about love and family that he often had to stop and think about how it fit into his ideal of what his life _should_ have been.

Once upon a time, he’d thought he knew what forever would hold for him. When Claire was lost to him, along with the life he’d always thought he had, he’d spent eighteen years grieving it. He’d resigned himself to the fact that he’d never love again, never have a family, never build a life that was worth living.

 _I was a ghost_ , he thought.

The truth was that he hadn’t survived Culloden, not really. His body had, but his soul had died the moment Claire had stepped through the stones with his child in her belly.

 _Lord, let her be safe, her and the child_.

It was only through his love for John that his soul found its way out of purgatory and joined again with his body. He had to throw away everything he thought he knew about what it meant to have a life well lived in order to have one.

And now, tonight, he and John would climb the ladder to the loft, lift it to avoid any surprise visitors, and spend their first night together in their own room and their own bed. There may not be any way to marry John, but tonight he would truly feel like his husband in every other sense of the word.

Taking one last moment to survey his work, he walked out of the cabin into the late afternoon sunlight. Willoughby, Isobel, and Willie had gone off to find fersh, wild herbs to dry for the winter. Jamie felt a pang in his stomach, thinking how Claire would be the one doing this if he’d been able to see his first life through, but he pushed it away, scanning the landscape for John.

Jamie’s heart leapt in his throat when he spotted him. John had stripped his shirt off and was holding an axe high above his head. The sun shone through the trees and Jamie could see the sweat glistening off John's chest. He hadn’t noticed until that very moment how defined John's muscles had become over the last few months of hard, manual labor. His biceps flexed just before he brought the ax down and split the log in half. When John saw his success, he smiled to himself and leaned on the ax, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Jamie’s mouth felt like it was full of sawdust and he licked his lips involuntarily. He felt the beginnings of a cockstand, picturing himself bending John over one of the logs and making love to him right here, out in the open.

John sensed Jamie’s eyes on him and looked up, giving him a coy smile. He placed another log in front of him, lifted the axe again, and just before he brought it down, winked at Jamie.

Jamie’s heart jumped into his throat and he strode over to John. Glancing around quickly, he looped his arm around John’s waist and pulled him in, kissing him hungrily. “I have a surprise for ye,” Jamie told him, ghosting his finger down John’s bare chest.

“What would that be?”

“Come see,” Jamie said, taking John by the hand and leading him back to the cabin. Once inside, Jamie gestured toward the ladder, and John turned back to Jamie, beaming. “You didn’t tell me you were going to finish this today!”

Pleased with himself, Jamie smiled and waved a hand modestly. “‘Twas no’ too difficult. Go on up and see.”

John smiled at Jamie and then climbed the ladder into the loft. Jamie followed closely behind, admiring the view as he did. When they were both standing in the nearly empty loft, Jamie suddenly felt embarrassed by its austerity. Both he and John had grown up in grand houses with richly decorated rooms; the plain loft with only two small beds pushed together and a dressing table paled in comparison to even the least used guest room at Lallybroch. Jamie had spent the last eighteen years sleeping in caves, prison, and the stables at Helwater. To have a roof over his head and an actual bed to lay in every night was the height of luxury, but he worried John wouldn’t feel the same.

“It’s no’ much,” Jamie said, nervously raking his fingers through his hair. “But it’ll do for now, I suppose.”

“Jamie, it’s perfect,” John said. He turned to Jamie and reached up to put his arms around Jamie’s neck. His lips met Jamie’s in a reverent, grateful kiss that soon turned fiery as Jamie opened his mouth and slid his tongue over John’s eagerly. They ran their hands hungrily up and down each other’s hard bodies, their hips thrust together in need. It had been almost a week since they’d managed to slip away together, and both men were in great need of each other.

"Do you think we have time before they return?" John panted into Jamie's mouth. "I need you."

Jamie broke away and walked over to the ladder, pulling it up into the loft. He'd hung a curtain on two sides of the bed and pulled them closed. "Even if they come home, they canna come upon us," Jamie told him, putting his hands on John's hips and pushing him onto the bed.

He walked over to the dressing table and opened the top drawer, pulling out a small vial of oil before turning back to the bed. John had already pushed his breeches off and was sitting up against the headboard, watching Jamie and slowly stroking his cock. Jamie licked his lips and locked eyes with him as he undressed.

He quickly rid himself of his clothes and moved onto the bed, nudging John's legs apart with his knee and crawling between them. He rubbed the tip of his cock against John's, teasing him before sitting down with his leg sliding his legs under John's and inching forward until their erections stood next to each other like two mighty fortresses.

Jamie took them both in his large hand and stroked slowly, afraid they would both end too quickly if he didn't take his time. He groaned and leaned forward, biting and suckling on John's lower lip as he pumped his hand up and down. "Jamie," John panted. "I want you inside of me."

Jamie grinned against John's lips. "Aye," he said as he pulled his legs out from under John and went up on his knees. "I want tae see yer face as I take ye," he whispered hoarsely, grabbing the vial of oil and rubbing it on his cock. He took a pillow and slipped it under John's hips, sitting back for a moment to take in his lover's body.

It had been months since they'd been afforded enough privacy to be completely naked together, let alone have enough light to see each other. Jamie's eyes trailed over John’s hooded eyes, black with desire, and down to his muscular chest. He bent his head and took John's nipple in his mouth. John sucked in his breath between with a "ssssss" sound and bucked his hips up.

Jamie put a hand on John's thigh and pushed him back down. "Still, my love. I dinna want tae rush this." He continued licking and teasing John's nipples, feeling John strain against his hand. Finally, he rubbed some oil onto his fingers and slid one into John, while the fingers of his other hand tweaked and pinched John's nipple.

Unrestrained again, John rocked his hips in time with Jamie’s finger pumping in and out of his arse. Jamie slipped another finger in, enjoying the grunts John made as Jamie stretched him. When he slipped in a third, John abruptly sat up and reached around, grabbing Jamie's hair at the nape of his neck. He licked the inside of Jamie’s ear before whispering, "Do it now, dammit."

"Aye," Jamie choked. John nodded and laid back again, spreading his legs even wider for Jamie, who quickly lined up his cock and pushed it inside John, trying not to go too hard or fast until he knew he wasn't hurting John.

When his balls rested against John's arse, Jamie looked at his lover's face. John gave him a firm nod of consent and Jamie began hammering into him. Jamie kept his eyes open, watching John's face contort with pleasure, wondering how it must feel to be filled in this way, with love and tenderness behind it.

_What is it like tae have yer lover deep inside ye? Tae lay vulnerable before him and give freely all of yerself that ye have to give? Tae feel yer love slide in and out of ye with tenderness and care?_

Even a few months ago, those very thoughts had still sent him into a panic. But that day, as he looked into John's eyes, a wave of pleasure washed over him so quickly that he fell forward, spilling his seed into John with a furious roar. John pumped his own cock quickly, shooting his seed onto Jamie’s stomach.

Jamie leaned down and pressed his forehead to John's, kissing him desperately, needing their connection to continue. His heart was still racing, his adrenaline still pumping, and he used John's kisses to slowly bring himself back down.

When he finally slid out of John, he collapsed on the bed next to him, pulling John in, pressing their sweaty, sticky bodies together. "What came over you?" John asked quietly.

"I dinna ken if I can explain it," Jamie murmured, "But I'll try." He stroked John's hair as he spoke, weaving the tendrils through his fingers. "Ever since we've been taegether, there's a piece of me I've held back from ye. I ken it's no secret that there's been certain things I've no' been able tae give ye, physically, but I think there's been a small part of my soul I've kept hidden away as well, a little piece of me that I needed tae protect myself.

"But just now, as I made love tae ye in our own bed, in our own home, looking in yer eyes, I felt that little piece break away. I gave it tae ye freely, John, without a thought of keeping it hidden anymore.

"And now I think, maybe, I'll finally be able tae explore giving ye my whole body, John, just as ye have done with me. No' too quickly, and no' all at once, but I feel safe enough tae try." Jamie let out a deep sigh and kissed the back of John's head.

He'd thought John would be pleased, but instead he was quiet. After a few minutes Jamie said, "I can hear ye thinking, John. Ye may as well tell me what's going through yer head."

John turned around to face Jamie, but then curled up and buried his face in Jamie's chest. "This piece of your soul...is it something you gave to Claire freely?"

Jamie tucked his hand under John's chin and raised it up, so that he could look in John's eyes. "Yes I did, when we were first wed. And then, after what Randall did, I kept it from her for a long time."

"What made you finally give it back?"

"She made me feel safe, John. As do ye." Jamie kissed him softly on the lips.

"Did you not feel safe with me before?"

"I did John, I do. I think it's that we finally have our own space together that I was finally able to let go of it today. It makes everything feel a wee bit more real and a wee less like we're living in the shadows."

John had moved so that he was face to face with Jamie, and he placed his lips on Jamie's, kissing him again, letting Jamie know that he understood. "I love ye," Jamie whispered. "Thank ye fer understanding." Then they laid there together for several minutes, looking into each other's eyes and stroking each other's hair.

Finally, Jamie rolled onto his back and John turned into him resting his head on Jamie’s chest. “Soon, my love,” Jamie told him, running a finger absentmindedly up and down John’s arm, “I’ll build us a grand house. I’ve already picked the spot, on the hill to the east, the one near the creek."

"Hmmmmm….you'll be the Laird of the Ridge," John said. "What will that make me?"

"My Lord, as ye always have been."

***

The next day, Jamie and John began building a small barn. They planned to go into Wilmington soon to purchase a mule to help with some of the heavier farming work, and the horses would need a roof over their heads before the snow flew. In the spring, Jamie planned to bring cows, pigs, goats, and chickens to the Ridge, all of which would need a place to dwell.

At noon, they were taking a break, eating dried meat and bannocks, when Willie came running toward them. "Da! Papa! Mr. Meyers is coming up the path!" Willie reported as he caught his breath.

Willie puffed out his chest like a proud scout who’d just delivered important news to his superior officers, and Jamie tousled the boy’s hair as he stood up. “Good job, laddie. Now run and tell Mother Isobel that we’ll have company for dinner.” Willie did as told, relishing his job as messenger.

John stood and stretched his aching back, hoping for good news. A visit from John Quincy Myers usually meant letters and perhaps some gossip from the nearby settlements and Wilmington, along with whatever supplies they had requested of him on his last visit. Last month, John had given the letter he’d written to Harry Quarry, inquiring about the whereabouts of Murtagh Fitzgibbons, to Myers, and he’d also asked Myers to conduct some of his own enquiries as to Murtagh’s whereabouts.

“I do hope whoever is with Myers has been able to pick up some of the supplies we requested. We’re running low on tea and we haven’t any ale,” John commented to Jamie as they walked side by side past the cabins and onto the narrow wagon path; it could hardly be called a road yet by any standards. In the distance, John could see Myers driving his small wagon. John was pleased to see that there appeared to be a barrel of ale on the wagon, along with some sacks of grain and a few packages that were sure to contain the smaller items they’d requested such as sugar and tea.

“Hullo the house!” Myers shouted, waving his arm in the air when he saw John and Jamie approaching.

They waved back and walked forward to greet the mountain man, dressed head to toe in buckskins. “What news do ye bring, Myers?” Jamie asked.

Myers jumped down from the wagon, and led his mule by the reins so that he could walk with John and Jamie the rest of the way to the house. “Oh there’s plenty of news for me to tell over some dinner and ale,” he said, gesturing to the wagonload. “I brought you a fresh buck, already dressed as well. I thought Mistress Isobel and Mr. Willoughby might like to cook some up for supper. The rest you can have for your smokehouse.”

“Myers, we simply couldn’t - “ John started.

“Grey, don’t argue with me,” Myers cut him off. “I’ve told you before, this is the way it is out here. We have to look out for one another. Now, there’s more meat on that buck than I’d know what to do with, and I know you’ve been busy getting a roof over your heads.”

“We’re grateful tae ye, John,” Jamie told him. “And we’ve made great progress on the cabins, as ye can see.” They’d reached the clearing where the two small houses stood.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Myers said, chuckling. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you boys would be able to get a roof over your heads before the snow flew, but here you are with two roofs and it looks like the beginnings of a barn, too.”

“Before you give him the tour,” John said, turning to Jamie, “Why don’t I help Myers unload while you finish up what you can on the barn?”

Jamie looked at him wearily but acquiesced, knowing that they couldn’t afford to lose a day of work. With a nod to both of them, he took his leave, grumbling under his breath as he walked away.

***

When Jamie had done about all he could possibly do on the barn without John’s help, he walked over to the chopping block and picked up the axe. He threw a thick piece of wood down and raised the axe over his head, grunting as he swung it down to meet the wood, which split down the middle with a satisfying crunch. He repeated the process until he’d split the log into six pieces and then tossed them aside before picking up a fresh piece of timber to start again.

He’d seen John talking privately to Myers the last time Myers had visited them, had seen the letter that had passed between their hands. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but why had John been so quick to get rid of Jamie so he could speak with Myers privately?

It wasn’t that Jamie suspected anything untoward between John and Myers, who had already regaled Jamie with tales of his many lovers, all of them women, most of them Native. In fact, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what precisely was bothering him about it. It was normal for John to want to send letters home to his family and the Dunsanys, besides the fact that there were business matters to attend to with regard to William and Isobel’s estates. But if that were the case, why would he need to be secretive about his correspondence?

Perhaps John was concerned about their financial situation and had written to procure funds through a bank note. If that were the case, then maybe he had hidden it from Jamie so as not to hurt Jamie’s pride.

Jamie smiled to himself, pausing to lean on the axe and wipe the sweat from his brow. John _would_ do something like that, protecting his pride even though they both knew very well Jamie didn't have a pot to piss in on his own. It did hurt his pride knowing that he was living off his own son's inheritance, and he loved John all the more for trying to shield Jamie's honor. He’d ask him about it tonight, though, and assure John his honor was intact and assert that he wanted to know the specifics of their financial affairs.

With his worries resolved, Jamie put the axe away and headed toward the cabin to find John and Myers. There was still plenty of time left in the day, and if he could have the help of both of them, they might make some real progress on the barn.

When he approached the cabin, the door was open and he heard low voices inside. Instead of stepping into the doorway, he pressed himself against the wall and listened. They were speaking quietly and with the wind blowing outside, it was hard for Jamie to catch the entire conversation, but he knew the voices were of John and Myers.

_...Woolam’s Creek...you’ll find the man... nasty reputation...visit._

_...the danger. He’s very important... knowledge that he’s living... Jamie..._

_...with you... direction….funds you need…._

_...a great deal of coin...appreciate it... defending myself...another man..._

_...important this is to you, he’s going to…._

_... must do this...bring this man back..._

Jamie’s head spun as he tried to make sense of the snippets of conversation he’d managed to hear. Who on earth could John be looking for? And the coin and danger? None of it made sense, but the part that bothered him the most was that John was obviously keeping it from Jamie. He thought they shared everything, and couldn’t think of a single reason for John to keep anything from him, unless…

Jamie shook his head and took a deep breath. No. It wasn’t possible. John would never be unfaithful to him. But nothing else made sense. Was there somebody from John’s past who Myers had found for him? A past lover John wanted to be reunited with?

Jamie strode into the cabin and ignored the two men sitting at the small kitchen table drinking ale.

John looked up, startled. “Jamie, I…”

“I’m going hunting,” Jamie cut him off, as he took his coat down from a hook on the wall. “We need more meat. I’ll be gone all night, so dinna wait up fer me.”

John’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Going hunting now? I don’t under - “

“I’m sorry I willna be able tae see ye off tomorrow morning Myers. There’s some letters fer ye tae take with ye. John kens where they are.” Jamie grabbed his rifle off the hook and turned around to walk out the door before either of the men could say another word.

Jamie stalked off into the woods with no real intention of hunting. What he really needed to do was talk to John and find out what was going on, insist John tell him the truth, but he couldn’t do that with Myers there, and that infuriated him even more. If John was a woman, if they were married as they should be, he would have had no hesitation bursting into the cabin and straightening the whole thing out.

He walked further; it was late in the day and darkness would be falling swiftly. The last time he and Willie had gone exploring, they’d found a cave etched into the edge of a cliff, and that was where he intended to spend the night. In his anger, he’d forgotten to pack any food, but there was likely some dried sausage in his sporran to hold him over.

He needed a night to clear his head and try to figure out what he was going to do. He found the cave easily and settled in just as the sun was beginning to set. Hunkered down in the cave, ripping pieces of dried sausage off with his teeth, he considered his situations and options.

If there were someone else, it must be a man from John’s past, someone John hadn’t told Jamie about. Neither of them spoke much about their past; only their lost loves, Hector and Claire, had ever entered the conversation. Jamie had assumed, foolishly, that any other lovers John had taken were insignificant, not even worth the effort to discuss.

The thought that John may have had a meaningful relationship in his past and had not shared that information with Jamie pained him even more than the jealousy simmering in his stomach. Had he been a fool to assume they should share everything with each other? Had he been imagining that depth of intimacy between them, projecting his past experiences with love onto his present situation?

It had grown so dark that Jamie could no longer see his own hand in front of his face, and he shifted so that he was lying down on his side. He'd thought his days of hiding in caves were over, but it seemed he'd never escape it. Above everything else, he hated that he couldn't ever have the relationship John that he could have with any woman, not in the eyes of the rest of the world, and perhaps not even in the eyes of the one he loved.

***

After a fitful night of sleep, Jamie woke before dawn, determined to set things right with John, even if it meant hearing a truth about their relationship that hurt him. He walked back quickly through the woods, guided by streaks of early morning sun peeking through the trees.

When he made it back, he first went to the cabin he and John shared only to find it already abandoned for the day. He proceeded to the other cabin and found William, Isobel, and Willoughby sitting at the table quietly eating their breakfast.

"Da!" William cried, jumping out of his seat and running to embrace Jamie. "Did you get anything?"

Jamie hugged him back, scanning the room for any sign of John. "No, son," he replied. "Go eat yer porridge before it gets cold."

"If you're looking for John, he's already left," Isobel said casually, spreading jam on a piece of bread.

"Left?"

"Yes, he said he had to go to Woolam’s Creek to conduct some business. He said he’d be back in less than a week. The porridge is still warm if you want some.”

Despite his hunger, Jamie shook his head. “Are you well, Mr. Jamie?” Willoughby asked. “You look pale.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Jamie said shakily. “I just wasna expecting him to leave. I’ll...I’ll just see tae the chores now.”

He left the cabin and headed outside to tend to the horses. John’s was gone, of course, and Jamie felt a pang in his heart to see his own horse standing lonely without its mate. “Christ,” he said out loud, “I’m a fool. I stormed out in anger and now the wee bastard’s gone and left.”

“Da?”

Jamie started at the sound of Willie’s voice behind him. He quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and turned around. “Willie, what are ye doing out here?”

“I wanted to see if ye need any help. I know there’s lots to do without Papa here!” He beamed up at Jamie, clearly feeling he needed to step in as the second man of the house with his Papa gone. Jamie felt his own heart lighten, realizing how easily Willie had adapted to the idea of there being two men of the house. He made up his mind then what he was going to do.

“Aye, ye’re right,” Jamie smiled. “I do need help. Come now, we need tae carry a lot of wood inside fer Mother Isobel. I’m going to join yer Papa, and I want tae make sure everything is all set for her and ye while we’re both gone.”

***

By midday, he’d finished all the chores. With Willie’s help, they’d brought enough wood into the small cabin to last Isobel a week. Then, they’d gone around to some of the nearby snares, bringing home several rabbits for Isobel and Willoughby to prepare and brought as much water as they could from the creek. Finally, he packed his own saddlebag with enough food for the journey and prepared to leave.

“Can I go with ye, Da?” Willie asked.

Jamie chuckled and squatted down in front of his boy. “No, ye canna come wi’ me. Who will take care of Mother Isobel if ye arena here?”

Willie looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, “Mr. Willoughby!”

“Aye, but he canna do it all on his own, ye ken. Everyone has their own job tae do here, and right now yers is tae take care of yer mother and be a good lad.”

Willie pouted but didn’t protest further. Jamie hugged him and gave him a kiss on the top of the head before bidding goodbye to Isobel and Willoughby and heading out on his way.

It was a two days journey to Woolam’s Creek, and Jamie hoped to overcome John and Myers before they even made it there. But the trail was poor and Myers certainly knew his way around the rougher terrain better than Jamie, who had only made the trip one other time. Jamie spent two cold nights on his own in the woods, aching to be in John’s arms. By the time he rode into Woolam’s Creek midafternoon on the third day, he missed John so badly that he was ready to tolerate just about anything he found there so long as he could set eyes on John’s face.

Jamie went immediately to the tavern and gave John’s description to the innkeeper, a small man with a weasel-like face. “Aye, he’s here,” the man said, eyeing Jamie suspiciously. “Rented a room upstairs just a few hours ago.”

“What room?” Jamie asked desperately.

“I can’t give you that information, sir,” the man replied, dismissing Jamie with a wave of his hand.

Jamie practically jumped over the counter, grabbing the man by the collar of his coat. “Ye’ll tell me where he is,” Jamie said through gritted teeth, “Or I’ll bash yer head into this bar and then make my way upstairs and kick every door down until I find him.”

The man threw his hands up in immediate surrender. “Rooms four and five!” he sputtered out. Jamie released the man from his grip and turned to the stairs. As he bound up them, two at a time, the innkeeper called, “But mind you, he’s not alone!”

Jamie ignored him and made his way to room four. He listened carefully and when he heard the sound of two male voices inside, he banged his fist on the door furiously. “John! John! It’s me. Open the door.”

He heard muffled voices of surprise inside and then the creaking of floorboards. Slowly, the door cracked open and John stuck his head out. “Jamie! What the hell are you doing here?” He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

“What am I doing here?” Jamie hissed. “I’ve come after ye, ye wee dobber. What the devil was so important that ye had tae take off wi’out telling me?”

John straightened himself to full height. For the first time, Jamie realized he was wearing his Officer’s uniform. He gulped and broke out in a cold sweat, his feelings for John suddenly swirling through his body, mingling with hatred and fear.

“Well, I would have told you, if you hadn’t run off like a mad man into the woods for no reason.” John said pragmatically.

“And just who is in there wi’ ye?” Jamie went on.

A look of understanding and then amusement broke out on John’s face and he began laughing. He laughed so hard, he bent over with the effort of it, and when he stood, he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. Composing himself, he moved closer to Jamie and whispered, with a wicked look in his eyes, “James Fraser, did you come all this way because you were jealous?”

Jamie felt his body heat rise and knew that he was turning red. “Aye,” he answered, “And if I did?”

John shook his head and tried to stave off another bout of laughter. “You are a damned fool, Jamie. Well, you might as well come inside. I thought to surprise you, but I can see that is out of the question now.”

He opened the door and Jamie swept past him, entering the room and focusing immediately on the small man sitting in a chair in front of the hearth. “ _A ghoistidh?”_

Murtagh stood from the chair as Jamie closed the small gap between them and embraced him heartily. “What are ye doing here?” he asked.

“I could ask the same of ye,” Murtagh replied. “Though I canna say I’m sorry tae see ye. The wee Englishman told me he was here tae collect me and bring me back tae ye, but I canna say I fully believed him until now.”

Jamie sat down in one of the chairs and looked from John to Murtagh. “I dinna ken what tae say. How?”

“Once we were settled,” John began, “I made some inquiries into his whereabouts. I sent a few letters to friends and acquaintances who might be able to check ship manifests or have more information about where the prisoners were sent. When Myers came to visit us a month ago, I gave him a letter to send to Harry Quarry -- you remember him, don’t you? -- and then I asked Myers if he could make some inquiries as well. It just so happened that your godfather was right here in Woolam’s Creek.”

“But, yer indenture. How did ye - “

“I bought it,” John said plainly, straightening the tails of his coat.

“I dinna ken what tae say,” Jamie said quietly. “But I heard ye and Myers talking. He said something about danger.”

“Well, the smithy who Mr. Fitzgibbons has been indentured under has a reputation as a caustic pillock, but he turned out to be no trouble at all once he saw that he could turn a profit.”

Jamie swallowed and leaned his head back in the chair. “Thank ye, John.” There was so much more he needed to say and he was practically choking on the words.

They all three ate supper together downstairs. Jamie filled Murtagh in on all that had passed since they’d been apart, including the birth of Willie.

“A son?” Murtagh exclaimed, slapping the table and laughing heartily. “Oh Jamie, ye dinna ken how much it means tae me tae ken ye’re finally raising a bairn. I canna wait tae meet the wee lad.”

“He’ll be verra happy tae meet ye too. I’ve told him many stories of our adventures. Christ, ye’re going tae love Fraser’s Ridge. I canna wait tae show it to ye.”

“Ten thousand acres, aye?” Murtagh mused, “That’s something tae be proud of, laddie.”

“Aye. It’s no’ much now, but give it a few years, and the whole place will be thriving. We’ll have tenants in the spring and start the planting. And I hope to start makin’ whisky as soon as there’s barley.”

After supper, John inquired about another room and they made their way back up the stairs. “Are ye sure ye dinna want tae sleep in my room, Jamie?” Murtagh asked, eyeing John wearily.

“No, _a goistidh_. Ye’ve only the one small bed, and John and I are accustomed to living in close quarters after all our travel. It willna be any trouble tae bunk with him.”

Murtagh did not look completely satisfied with Jamie’s response, but he grunted and nodded. “Good night then,” he said, closing the door to his room.

As soon as John and Jamie had closed their own door, John looked at Jamie with a smirk on his face. “If ye’re going tae laugh at me again, could ye be quiet about it?” Jamie said grumpily. “I’m exhausted.” He pulled his boots off quickly and laid down on the bed on his back, covering his face with his arm.

A few moments later, he felt John’s weight on the bed and the rustling of the covers as John inched closer to him until he was curled up next to Jamie, his head resting on top of Jamie’s shoulder. “What on earth were you thinking?” he whispered in Jamie’s ear.

Jamie cracked one eye open and looked at John. Seeing the smug, amused expression on his face, Jamie grunted and closed it again. “I dinna ken. I thought perhaps…nay it’s foolish.”

John placed one hand on Jamie’s cheek and stroked his outgrown facial hair thoughtfully. “Go on…”

Jamie rolled over so that he was facing John, their foreheads pressed together. “I thought perhaps ye were coming here tae see an old lover of yers. Or at the very least getting yerself into some dangerous business. I lost my heid, John. I’m sorry.”

“I suppose I should have known better than to try to keep something from you. I wanted to surprise you, is all,” John replied. “But you should know I would never keep an important secret from you, Jamie. I’ve told you everything important about my life, and half of the unimportant things, too.”

“I ken that; I suppose I just forgot,” Jamie replied. “Thank ye, John. This was a wonderful thing that ye did fer me, and I’m sorry I ruined it.” He brought his lips to John’s and kissed him softly.

“You didn’t ruin anything, Jamie. And I’m happy that you’re here with me.”

“As am I. I dinna like tae be parted from ye, John.”

“Never, Jamie. Never.”


	4. Forcing Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In chess, a forcing move is one which requires the opponent to reply in a certain way, or which greatly limits the ways in which he responds.
> 
> They shared the soap and washed themselves in earnest. As they walked back to the cabin in their fresh clothes, Jamie asked quietly, “Do ye think he kens what it is between us?”  
> John sighed and gave Jamie’s hand a quick squeeze. “He’s a keen observer, that I can tell. If he doesn’t know already, he will soon. How are you going to handle it if he asks about it?”  
> “I dinna ken yet, but hopefully when the time comes, I’ll have the right words tae say tae him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter, but should only be a week or less before Chapter 5 is out.

[ ](https://ibb.co/zrqv8KN)

When they arrived home after two days of travel, Willie, who felt it his duty to keep watch over the Ridge with both his fathers away, ran down the trail to greet them. "Da!" he yelled, waving his arm furiously. "Papa!"

Murtagh's head whipped toward Jamie with a questioning look, but Jamie ignored him and quickly dismounted his horse. He scooped Willie up and tousled his curls playfully. "Have ye been doing a good job taking care of the Ridge, son?"

"Aye!" Willie chirped, and Jamie smiled at the Scots seeping into his son's vocabulary.

John dismounted next, and Willie scrambled and jumped from Jamie's arms into John's. "Are you a boy or a monkey?" John teased. He tickled Willie, who giggled at John's joke.

"Papa, ye know I'm not a monkey." Willie giggled.

"No you're not," John said as he set Willie back down on the ground. "But you will be sounding like a Scot soon enough, I'm afraid."

“And what’s wrong wi’ that?” Jamie asked with mock indignation. He squatted down next to Willie and placed a kiss on his son’s forehead. “He is a Scot, is he no’?”

“Well I supposed I can’t argue with that,” John said. He threw his hands up in defeat.

Murtagh cleared his throat, and all three of his companions turned to look at him. “Who’s that man, Da?”

“This is Murtagh, my godfather.”

Murtagh nodded at the lad but stayed on his horse.

“Godfather? Do I have a godfather?”

“Weel,” Jamie said, scratching his overgrown beard. “I dinna suppose ye do. Perhaps Murtagh could be yer godfather now, as well.”

Jamie looked at Murtagh expectantly and saw a small twitch of his mouth under his bushy mustache. “I suppose that’ll do,” Murtagh replied.

They walked together the rest of the trail, Willie chattering away, happily giving both his fathers the updates from their time away.

“Mother Isobel tried to mend some of yer socks while ye were gone and ended up sewing them together, so Mr. Willoughby had to redo them. Then she oversalted the venison stew, but Mr Willoughby showed us how you can fix it by letting a potato soak in it. Last night Mother Isobel said that I needed a bath, but I told her that I go swimming in the creek every day, and she got verra mad, because it’s getting colder, and she says that swimming in the creek isn’t a proper bath, but I said that Da said that it is, and she said she’d have to have a talk with ye about that when ye got home....”

And so it went as they put the horses up for the day and headed toward the cabins. Willie veered them toward the cabin John and Jamie shared, and Jamie hesitated, worried about the sleeping arrangements and how Murtagh would react. When he entered the cabin, though, he saw that it was set up with the table that had once resided in Isobel’s cabin. Against the opposite wall were two beds, Willie’s small bed and the larger one that Isobel slept in.

As introductions were made and everyone settled in, Jamie realized that John must have told Isobel and Willoughby of his plans to bring Murtagh back to the Ridge. While Jamie and John were gone, they had moved Isobel and Willie's beds into John and Jamie's cabin. Eventually, Murtagh would have his own cabin, but temporarily, he would bunk with Willoughby while the Frasers and Greys went back to living in close quarters. The situation was not ideal, but it was the best that could be done until the spring.

Before dinner, Jamie and John went to the creek to wash up, earning a rueful look from Isobel as they walked out of the door. Murtagh declined their offer to join them, and Willoughby helped him get the tub in the second cabin filled with hot water instead.

The creek water was cold and invigorating. Both men whooped and hollered when they walked in, holding onto their bullocks lest they escape into their bodies, never to be found again. Jamie took the soap and began to scrub John down. It had become their routine to bath together in the creek whenever they could get away, though they both knew the ritual would have to end soon with the cold weather coming.

They’d hardly had any time to talk along on the long journey home, so Jamie asked, “How did Murtagh react when he saw it was ye that had bought his indenture?”

“Well, I can’t say he looked pleased, though I suppose a man would endure many indignities to get away from the situation Murtagh was in.” He lifted his arm in the air, “Here, scrub my oxter well; I stink like a derelict sailor.”

Jamie leaned his nose in and took a small sniff, “Christ, ye’re right. Ye’re verra lucky we have time tae bathe, because I wouldna let ye intae my bed smelling like that!”

“Oh really?” John shot back. He yanked Jamie’s arm up and wafted the air toward him with his hand. “If you think you smell any better, then I would recommend some black pepper oil to clear your nose.”

Jamie responded by splashing John playfully, and their bathing session soon devolved into a raucous round of horseplay.

“Excuse me, gentleman,” Isobel shouted from the creek bank. Both men stopped in their tracks and looked up at her. She was smiling at their antics, though she tried to hide it in her voice as she yelled down, “Lest you forget we have a guest, I’d like to remind you that dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes!”

“Aye, Isobel,” Jamie called back and she waved her hand at them in mock exasperation as she walked away.

“We better hurry or we’ll both be in trouble,” John teased.

They shared the soap and washed themselves in earnest. As they walked back to the cabin in their fresh clothes, Jamie asked quietly, “Do ye think he kens what it is between us?”

John sighed and gave Jamie’s hand a quick squeeze. “He’s a keen observer, that I can tell. If he doesn’t know already, he will soon. How are you going to handle it if he asks about it?”

“I dinna ken yet, but hopefully when the time comes, I’ll have the right words tae say tae him.

***

Dinner was a somewhat awkward affair. Murtagh was about as chatty as he ever was, giving one word answers or unintelligible grunts to any questions lobbed his way. Eventually, the adults gave up, but Willie, a lad for whom all adults in his life generally hung on to his every word, did not catch on to the general mood of the table. In fact, the reticent mood of the adults gave him the opportunity to dominate the conversation.

“Are ye from Scotland?” he asked.

Murtagh cleared his throat. “Aye.”

“Do you like it here better than Scotland? Da says Scotland is his home but there’s better pertunities here for us.”

Murtagh responded with a grunt.

“It’s ‘opportunities’,” Isobel corrected him.

“Why did ye come to the Colonies?” Willie prodded.

“I didna have a choice,” Murtagh said, looking at John pointedly.

“Why no’? Da says that every man should be the master of his own fate.”

“Did he now? Well, mebbe ye should ask yer _Papa_ what he thinks on the subject.” He tossed his napkin down on the table and stood. He nodded to Isobel and said, “Thank ye fer yer hospitality, Lady Grey. I’ve had a long journey, and my bones are weary. Good night.”

As soon as he left the room, the adults exchanged concerned looks. “I’ll go talk to him,” Jamie said. He turned to Willie, “Now listen tae Mother Isobel, and let her and Papa put ye tae sleep. No staying up late waiting for me, ye ken?”

“Yes, Da.”

***

Jamie found Murtagh sitting on a rock a few feet away from the cabin. The sun was going down, casting an orange hue over the Ridge. Jamie wrapped his coat more tightly against the chilly October air. He carried one of his last bottles of whisky that he’d brought from Edinburgh and two mugs. Murtagh was puffing on a pipe with his back turned to Jamie, but as Jamie approached, Murtagh said, “Ye may be quiet as a cat, but I’ve got the ears o’ one.”

Jamie chuckled and sat down on the large flat rock next to Murtagh. Jamie poured some of the whisky into each of the mugs and handed one to him. “When did ye start smoking a pipe?” Jamie asked.

“Few years back. Twas nothin’ else tae do in the evenings at the smithys.” Jamie grunted in response.

Both men drank their whisky in silence, pouring a second cup when they’d drained their first. “If ye’re sore that John came tae get ye instead of me, I had nothing tae do with it.”

“I ken,” Murtagh replied, staring at the ground. “But what are ye doing living out here in the backcountry wi’ a Redcoat? That man imprisoned ye, fer Christ sake!”

Jamie spoke steadily, determined not to let Murtagh’s needling get the better of him. “John didna imprison me, the British crown did. Fer a crime that I did commit, if ye dinna remember. And ye ken that John was a good Governor. Ye’d have died if he hadna brought in that physician fer ye.”

Murtagh grunted. “Still, Jamie, after all the years we spent hating the Redcoats, ye suddenly act as if it’s perfectly normal tae be living wi’ them?”

“I was forced tae live with the Dunsany family fer eight years, and with that came both John and Isobel. Friendships were forged that I dinna want tae have tae explain tae ye fer now, but yes, we are a family.”

“And what of the boy? Ye said he was a bastard, but he seems tae have more parents than he kens what tae do with at the moment. Why would he call the Redcoat _Papa_?”

Jamie poured them both another round. “I told ye his mother was Isobel’s sister. Isobel raised him since he was a wee bairn, and he always called her Mother Isobel. When she married John, he became Papa. It wasna til after I was released from my indenture that I was able tae tell Willie that I was his real father. It didna make sense to confuse the poor lad; there’s nay harm in him calling them Mother and Papa.”

“But he’s yer son! Why should another man get the privilege of being a father tae him?”

“Because it’s best for Willie, that’s why.”

Murtagh grunted again.

“Listen,” Jamie said. “If ye dinna want tae stay wi’ us, after this winter, I’ll give ye a plot of land on the other side of the property. Ye can set up a forge or work the land, I dinna care. Ye’re free tae do as ye see fit, and if ye’d rather leave, we willna stop ye. When yer parole is over, ye can go back tae Scotland if ye like.”

“Ehhhhhh, what is there fer me in Scotland anymore? The Redcoats have taken everything from us.”

“As I said, ye can do as ye wish.” Jamie poured again.

“I dinna understand yer life here, Jamie. I’m tryin’ tae make sense of it in my heid, and I’m coming up short. Why do ye stay in their cabin when ye could be bunking with Willoughby?”

“Willie is there. I want to be close to my son, as do they.”

“Aye ye’ve got an answer fer everything I ask. Well how about I ask ye this -”

“Wheesht, _a goistidh_ ,” Jamie said, holding up his hands to Murtagh. “Dinna ask me a question if ye arena ready fer the answer.”

Murtagh clamped his mouth shut and puffed on his pipe. Finally he asked quietly, “Are ye happy, Jamie?”

“Aye,” Jamie said with conviction. “Verra happy.”

Murtagh stood and handed his mug back to Jamie. “Weel, I guess that’s all I need tae ken fer now. And when I am ready for answers?”

“Then I’ll give them tae ye. Ye ken I’d never keep a secret from ye.”

Murtagh nodded and clamped a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I’m glad tae be back with ye Jamie,” he said. Then he slowly walked back to the cabin.

Jamie stood soon after and stumbled his way back home, his fatigue from the journey and the whisky had gone right to his head. When he entered the cabin, it was dark, save for one candle that someone, likely John, had kept lit for him. He went to Willie’s bed and bent over, pushing the boy’s hair off his forehead and giving him a kiss. Then, he climbed the ladder and undressed quickly, blowing out the candle as he crawled into bed next to John.

John stirred and rolled over to face Jamie. He kissed Jamie on the lips gently and said, “You taste and smell like a distillery.”

Jamie grunted and wrapped his arm around John’s middle, pulling him closer. “If ye’d like I could go sleep elsewhere,” he teased.

“No, no, no,” John said quickly, returning Jamie’s embrace. “I haven’t slept well without you beside me.”

“Rest yer head then, man. I am here.”


	5. Brave the Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, John turned around and asked, "Am I enough for you, Jamie?"
> 
> "I dinna ken exactly what ye're asking, John."

[ ](https://ibb.co/nzvT9nd)

_**March 1765** _

The winter had been mild and blissfully short. There were very few spans of time during which the weather had made travel difficult, so they made regular trips to nearby settlements to trade or even into Brownsville or Woolam's Creek for supplies. Their hard work in the autumn had paid off, and they'd had plenty of food to keep their bellies full and warm fires to keep them cozy on even the coldest of days.

Many nights, after Willie was tucked in, the adults would gather in the cabin shared by Willoughby and Murtagh to play games or tell stories in front of the hearth. John Quincy Myers kept them well stocked with ale, and often John and Jamie would hold each other up, laughing and stumbling their way back to their own cabin.

They were a family, Jamie realized. Not just he, John, and Willie, but all six of them formed a cohesive unit of love and support, each person contributing in their own way. It reminded him of his own happy youth at Lallybroch, surrounded by the love and care of blood relations and tenants alike, and he hoped Willie felt as secure as he had as a lad.

He certainly seemed to be thriving. The boy continued to grow like a weed, his baby fat melting away, revealing the first hints of Jamie's high cheekbones and sharp jawline. Throughout the winter, they had all taken turns giving Willie school lessons. Jamie taught him Gaelic, Greek, and Latin, as well as mathematics and Scottish History. John introduced him to Geography and, much to Jamie’s chagrin, English history. Isobel taught him reading and writing, which he picked up on so quickly, he soon tired of the primers and could often be found hiding in a corner devouring books that were far too mature for a child of seven. Willoughby focused on astronomy and herbology. And when Willie grew tired of that, Murtagh was always available to teach him a variety of activities ranging from sword fighting to whittling.

Jamie was sick to his stomach at the thought of what his life would have been like had he not fallen in love with John. He'd certainly not get to see Willie grow up, become a man before his very eyes. And how lonely it would have been. The few months he spent at Lallybroch before his reunion with them had been surreal; he'd felt like a ghost haunting his former residence.

And his heart, would it have ever healed? He still loved Claire, thought of her everyday with feelings of love and painful loss, but not at all like it had been all those years before John: hiding in a cave imagining her there with him, rotting in a jail cell barely able to speak her name, lying awake at night in the stables at Helwater, an insatiable desire burning through his body every time he dreamed of her. How much longer could he have gone on like that?

But he had fallen in love with John, who healed and grew his heart. At first he had worried that he was dishonoring Claire by falling in love again, but had he not sent her through the stones so that she could be happy without him? If Claire knew that he was alive, would she want him to live half a life? No, he didn't think so. And John had not replaced her in his heart, as he'd feared would happen. John had his own place in Jamie’s heart, no less important than Claire’s, and Jamie found he had room to love them both. It pained him to know he would never see Claire again, but the thought of a life without John was just as painful and, in his prayers, he thanked God everyday for allowing him to open his heart and love again.

"What are you thinking about?" John's voice broke through Jamie's thoughts and he jumped.

"John, I think ye've caught me at a disadvantage," Jamie teased as John looped his arms around Jamie's waist and rested his head on his back. Jamie had been in the barn, cleaning up after the animals they'd acquired. "I was thinking about how much I love you," he said, turning around and pulling John into his chest. He kissed the top of John's head and breathed in the scent of his hair, a mixture of wood smoke and lye soap.

"Are we all set for tomorrow?" John asked when Jamie released him from his embrace.

"Aye, we'll leave at dawn," Jamie replied. They were heading out on a trip to Wilmington to try to attract settlers to the Ridge, part of their bargain with the former Governor.

"It will be nice to get away, just the two of us after being cooped up all winter," John said. "And it's always rather romantic, don't you think? Sleeping under the stars together?"

"And when did ye become such a romantic, John Grey?" Jamie teased.

"Oh, I suppose I've always been one at heart, but spending the last year with you has certainly helped."

"Christ, has it been a year already?" Jamie asked. John made a strange face and Jamie shook his head, leaning over and planting a small kiss on his forehead. "I didna mean it like that. Of course I ken it's been a year, but I just hadna thought about it. We've been so busy, I havena had any time tae think. It's been a good year, though, has it no'?"

"The best year of my life," John said. "The happiest, too."

"Ye dinna regret that I kissed ye that night, at Helwater?" Jamie said with a coy smile.

"Only when you breathe in my face while you sleep," John quipped.

Jamie laughed heartily and looped his arm around John's waist. "Come, let's go bathe before supper. It's going tae be awhile before we have another proper bath."

***

"I want to go with you," Willie whined at the dinner table.

"I'm sorry, _a chuisle_ , but ye canna go. No' this time." Jamie reached over and tried to tousle Willie’s hair, but he ducked out of the way.

"Besides," John added, "Who is going to take care of Mother Isobel if you go with us?"

Willie sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Mr. Willoughby and Murtagh."

"And who will take care of me?" Murtagh chimed in.

"Ye don't need anyone to take care of you, Murtagh. Ye're an auld man," Willie replied. The table erupted in laughter, and Willie scowled.

Jamie leaned in and whispered in his ear, "I promise ye, when the weather is warmer, Papa and I will take ye on a wee camping trip, just the three of us, aye?" William nodded. "Good lad, now eat yer supper before it gets cold."

***

The next morning, John and Jamie both woke before dawn. After a quick breakfast, they both gave Willie a kiss as he slept, and were on their way.

John sat close to Jamie as he drove the wagon, resting his head on Jamie’s shoulder and a hand on his thigh. They would have to be more careful once the sun was up and they reached busier trails, but in that moment, they could love freely.

In fact, they never passed another traveler on that whole first day. As the sun dropped lower in the sky to the west, Jamie stopped the wagon, and they found a spot not far off the road to make camp. While John went about caring for the horses and building the campfire, Jamie took off into the woods to see if he could catch any small game for their supper.

As he trudged through the woods, his heart was light. On days like that day, when he and John could pretend that it was alright to love each other out in the open, could exchange small touches and flirtatious glances, he felt as lucky as a king.

He also felt angry that things weren't different for them, and ashamed that he had once held the same views as most of the world. Once, he had thought that men who buggered other men were abominations. He hadn't realized that they could love each other, the same way that men and women loved each other, that the buggery could just be a normal expression of love. If only the rest of the world could peek inside their relationship and see it for what it truly was.

He snagged a squirrel and a rabbit and quickly headed back to the camp. John was squatting next to the fire when Jamie approached, and he took a moment to admire his love. The sun was setting, casting red, yellow, and orange hues over the campsite, giving it an ethereal glow. John's hair was neatly plaited, as it almost always was. He and Jamie could spend an entire day doing vigorous physical labor, and Jamie's hair would be sticking out this way and that, while John's remained impeccable. Only when they made love, with John's hair loose and wild, did it ever appear messy. Only for him. He couldn't wait to settle in with the man for the night, untie the ribbon that was neatly in place, and run his fingers through the thick, brown locks.

Sensing his presence, John looked over his shoulder and broke out into a smile that warmed Jamie to his toes. He smiled back and approached, holding out the meat to be dressed and cooked for supper.

They worked together in companionable quiet, both of them having talked themselves out after the first few hours of the journey. It didn't matter. There was a constant chatter that went on between their bodies as they worked together, moving around each other in a dance they'd perfected over the past year.

After dinner, Jamie threw some more wood on the fire and then settled down on the ground, leaning against a fallen log. His legs stretched out in a V, and John settled in between them, leaning his head and back against Jamie's chest. _John was right_ , Jamie thought, _it is romantic sitting under the stars together._

His mind couldn't help but wander back to all the nights he and Claire had spent under the stars together. There had been so many nights, especially in their early marriage, that they'd made love quietly under the stars, fallen asleep curled up together. But for every good night they'd had under the stars, there'd been two bad. How many nights had they spent during the war, shivering to sleep with empty bellies? He'd felt like a failure then, unable to keep his wife fed and properly clothed, even as his child took root and grew in her belly.

The thought of the child always jarred him. Each night he silently prayed for the lad, that he and Claire both were safe. In his mind, he was still a wee bairn in Claire's arms, even though he knew the lad would be... _Christ, he'll be eighteen now. A grown man. Had he gone to University? Met a lass? What type of man was his son?_

His thoughts turned to Willie, and he wondered if Willie looked like his older son. _Did Claire name him Brian, like I asked?_ The thought that Willie would never know his older brother pained him, and forced himself to push all the memories away and focus on the life that was before him.

John was being just as quiet as Jamie, which was unusual. He usually turned into a chatterbox when they were alone in the dark together. "What are ye thinking about, John?" he asked quietly. He started undoing John's plait.

John sighed patted Jamie’s knee. "Yesterday you asked me if I had any regrets. And I was wondering if you had any?"

Jamie grunted and finished releasing the tight cords of John's hair. John sighed as his shoulders relaxed, and Jamie pushed some of the hair away and kissed his neck softly. "Regrets? I suppose my only regret is something I canna control."

"Whatever does that mean?" John asked nervously.

"What I mean is, I canna be yer husband, and I canna share our love with the world, not even with some of the people I love the most. Not even our son, not really. But that's a regret fer the closed mindedness of others, no' for the decisions I've made." He wrapped his arms around John and squeezed him tightly. "Fer you, I have no regrets. And what about you, John. When I asked ye yesterday, ye made a joke. But do ye have any?"

John leaned back and let his head rest heavily on Jamie’s chest. "I suppose there's one. But I don't want you to take it the wrong way, or think that I'm wishing anything different about our relationship."

"Ye dinna need tae give me one o' yer ten minute preambles, my love,” Jamie teased. "Just say what's in yer mind."

John laughed. Jamie knew him even better than he knew himself sometimes. "Well, I suppose I wish I had been able to have a child that was my own flesh and blood. I love Willie with all my heart, and I love that he is _ours_ , at least as best as he can be. But when I see you with each other, throwing your heads back in laughter, walking side by side with the same gait, when he smiles in his sleep, I know that he is a part of you in a way that he will never be with me."

"John, it breaks my heart that ye feel that way. Ye ken Willie loves ye just as much as he loves me."

"I do know that. It's just something...it's hard to explain." He sighed, frustrated that he couldn't say what he meant.

Jamie was quiet for a while, contemplating what to say next. Finally, he asked, "If Isobel would be willing, would ye want tae try with her? She _is_ legally yer wife, and if ye truly wish tae have a bairn of yer own - "

John turned around and put a finger on Jamie's lips. "Shhhhhh. I love you even more for offering, but that's not what I want. You asked me if I had any regrets, and just as you do, I have one small, insignificant regret. You don't have to fix it for me, just as I don't have to fix yours. Let it be enough that we've shared them with each other."

Jamie took John's face between his hands and kissed him gently. "Aye, ye're right, my love."

John settled back in Jamie's arms again. "Do you wish you could have more children?"

Jamie felt his throat close up. It was a simple question but there was no simple answer. He swallowed hard and did his best to answer as honestly as he could. "I always dreamed I'd have a house full of bairns, but it wasna meant tae be." His eyes stung at the thought of Faith and Brian, the children he would never meet.

"I'm sorry, Jamie. I didn't mean to bring up old ghosts."

"It's alright. Ye didna bring up anything I dinna think about every day." For the first time in a long while he had the desire to talk about it. He couldn't talk about Brian; that was one secret he would always have to keep from John. But he could talk about Faith. "She'd be almost twenty now, my daughter. A grown woman, maybe with a bairn of her own."

There was nothing John could say, but he squeezed Jamie's hands, an assurance that he was listening.

"I've never told ye, John, that I wasna there when she was born. I never even laid eyes on her. We were in Paris, ye ken, and I was in the Bastille for dueling wi' Black Jack Randall."

"Dear God in heaven," John murmured.

"Claire begged me not tae duel him, made me promise. But he'd...well, he'd done tae wee Fergus what he'd done tae me, and that I couldna let go unpunished. When Claire found out where I was, she rushed to the Bois de Boulogne tae stop me, but it was too late.

"It all happened so fast. I didna even ken she was there until I'd defeated Randall. The _gendarmes_ came, she screamed fer me and collapsed, and I was arrested and thrown in the Bastille, thinking both she and the bairn were gone. I was only half right." Tears fell from his eyes onto the top of John's head.

"Oh, Jamie, I -"

"I carry that guilt with me everyday. That my child died because of my foolishness, that my need fer revenge made me shirk the duty of protecting my family."

"It wasn't your fault, Jamie."

"That may be true, John, but it doesna feel true." He sniffled and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I was given a second chance with Willie. And I'm grateful fer that and tae be able tae share him wi' ye John. He's a miracle."

"Yes," John said softly, "Yes he is."

***

During the next three days of travel, they avoided the heavier topics. Instead, they spoke of the future and their plans for Fraser’s Ridge. Jamie wanted to start work on the big house he had planned for them as soon as the crops were planted. And once they harvested their first barley crop, he'd begin making whisky. It would be a small endeavor at first, but he hoped that with time it would be their main source of income.

At night they made love under the stars, relishing in the privacy of the woods. They rarely had the opportunity to be as loud as they desired, and they both took full advantage of it, grunting and roaring like wild animals as they took their pleasure in each other.

But by the third night, even the joy of privacy couldn't outweigh the fact that they were both getting a little old to be rutting on the ground or in the back or the wagon, and were grateful that they'd be spending the next several nights in an inn.

They were both thrilled when Jamie pulled the wagon up outside of a tavern in Wilmington. They had stayed there before, when they'd first arrived in the Colonies, and knew it was dependable for a clean, warm bed and a hot meal.

The dining room was busy that night. After four and a half days on the road with only each other for company, the hot, noisy room was jarring. They ordered their food and ale at the bar and snaked their way through the labyrinth of tables until they managed to find two seats across from each other.

It was difficult to hold a conversation over the din, so they sat in silence. Eventually, a stately looking woman, likely the owner of the tavern, made her way over to them with their food.

She set the plates before them and gave Jamie a curious look. "James Fraser? Of Fraser’s Ridge?"

Jamie looked up, trying to see if he knew the woman. "I am. Do I ken ye from somewhere lass?"

"Oh no," she replied, giggling. "I saw your name on the register and I had to come over and introduce myself. It's not every day a prestigious landowner such as yourself stays at _my_ inn."

Jamie furrowed his eyes in confusion. "I'm sorry, lass. How do ye ken who I am?"

"Oh, everybody in Wilmington knows about your land grant. It's been the talk of the town since you came. Ten thousand acres! To think of the potential! And you, a widower, managing it all on your own with your young son." She bent down closer to Jamie, but still spoke loudly enough for anybody in close proximity to hear. "I heard you were handsome, but none of the rumors could truly do you justice."

Jamie shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Aye, well, it’s verra nice tae meet ye, Miss…"

"Mrs," she said. "Mrs. Adams. I'm a widow myself, so I know how lonely it can be."

"My condolences to ye, Mrs. Adams," Jamie said, staring at the food on his plate. "Now if ye dinna mind, I'd like tae eat my dinner and get tae bed. It's been a long few days of travel."

"Oh of course," she said, flustered. "Now if you need anything, _anything_ , while you're here, please ask for me personally."

"Aye, I will. Thank ye." He picked up his fork and quickly shoved some of the potato from his plate into his mouth, inviting no further conversation.

***

John was quiet for the rest of the dinner, which Jamie attributed to the same road weariness he felt. When they got back to the room, though, John steered clear of Jamie as best he could in the small room and remained silent.

"Is there something bothering you, John?" Jamie asked.

John turned to face him. "Did you like her?" he asked.

Jamie gave him a confused look. "Who?"

"That woman at dinner. The one who was flirting with you."

"Flirting wi' me? Christ, John she was a money hungry widow! I didna want anything tae do with her." He hung up his coat and walked over to stoke the fire, throwing on a couple extra logs. Then he poured two whiskies from the bottle he'd purchased and handed one to John.

The look on John's face told him the conversation was not over. Jamie smiled at him and raised his glass. "To you, John. Ye who makes my life worth living."

John lifted his glass but didn’t return Jamie’s smile, nor would he look him in the eye. Jamie put one arm around his waist and pulled their hips close together. "What's the matter, my love? Are ye jealous of an auld besom?" he teased.

John took a sip of his drink before stating plainly, "Yes."

"Have I done something tae make ye feel so, John? Even if the lass was flirtin' wi' me, I can assure ye it wasna reciprocated."

John pulled away and walked over to the hearth, staring into the fire. Jamie leaned on the bed's footboard; he knew John would need time to collect his thoughts.

Eventually, John turned around and asked, "Am I enough for you, Jamie?"

"I dinna ken exactly what ye're asking, John."

"It's a simple question Jamie; am I enough for you?" He took a few steps closer and stood in front of Jamie, gesturing at his body. "I know you love me and I know you enjoy being intimate with me, but is that enough for you? Do you long to be with women, too? You said you regretted that we can't be married, can't have a public relationship. Have you grown tired of the subterfuge?"

Jamie reached out to grab his hand, but John quickly pulled it away. "Answer the question."

Jamie was hurt by the gesture, but continued on. "I dinna ken where all this is coming from, John, but to answer your question, yes, ye are enough. Do ye think I've just been keepin' ye around to warm my bed until a lassie comes along that wants me? Christ, John, I dinna ken what more I could say tae ye tae make ye believe it. We're building a life together, and what I feel for ye…" He paused and took a sip of his drink before setting it down on an end table. Then, he reached out slowly and put his hand on the side of John's face. "There was a time in my life I thought I would never love again. It was as if a part of my heart had disappeared. But then ye came along and now I've got a brand new place in my heart that's only for you." He took a step, closing the space between them. "I love ye John. _You_ are my life now, you and Willie. And the rest of the world can go hang, including the lasses."

Jamie put his hand behind John's head and kissed him softly, with a gentle bite of his bottom lip as he pulled away. John's eyes were brimming with tears but his smile was back. "I'm sorry Jamie," he said. "I just never thought I would ever be able to live a life with such passion and love and….honesty. Forgive me for being so foolish as to doubt you."

Impulsively, Jamie dropped down on one knee and took John's hand in his.

"What are you doing, you plonker?" John asked, a bewildered look in his eyes.

"John Grey, will ye marry me?"

John threw his head back and laughed but Jamie’s face remained serious. "Jamie, you know we can't-"

"But if we could. Will you marry me?"

"Of course I would, Jamie. I would marry you this very minute if it were possible."

"Come kneel beside me, John."

John did as told and Jamie pulled him in passionately, kissing John hard until they were both dizzy. "What if I told ye there is a way?" Jamie asked when he finally broke away.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jamie. There's no -"

"Handfasting," Jamie said, cutting John off again. "It's a tradition in the Highlands. If there's no priest around, ye can declare yer love fer each other and the marriage is legal. Technically, it's only fer a year and a day, but since we willna ever be able to find a priest who will marry us, I suppose we can keep extending."

"I'm already married, though. What about Isobel? Isn't this bigamy?"

Jamie laughed and cupped John's cheek with his hand. "Christ, ye're an auld fussbudget sometimes. I ken ye have an obligation tae care fer Isobel. But what ye have isna a marriage. This," he pointed his finger between the two of them, "What it is between us is real. And this marriage is about our commitment to each other. And it's no' bigamy if we canna be legally wed anyway."

They both laughed quietly and John wiped away the tears that were already dripping down his face. His hands trembled and Jamie folded his own around them. "What do we have to do?" John asked.

Jamie unknotted his stock and then pulled his dirk from it's resting place in his belt. John looked at Jamie curiously. "Do ye trust me, John?"

"With my life."

Jamie pulled John's arm toward him and quickly ran the dirk over the underside of his forearm. He did the same to himself and then placed his arm over John's, wrapping them together with his stock.

He looked John in the eyes as he spoke. "I, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, take you, John William Bertram Armstrong Grey, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish from this day forward until death parts us."

Jamie sniffled and wiped his eyes with his free hand. "Now you."

John took in a shaky breath and began, repeating the vows back to Jamie. "Is it time to kiss the groom?" he teased when he was done.

"No' quite yet," Jamie told him. "There's one more part, from my own traditions that we must say. I'll spare ye the Gaelic though. Repeat after me."

Jamie spoke the Gaelic vows, pausing after every line for John to repeat the words back to him.

_You are blood of my blood_

_And bone of my bone_

_I give you my body_

_That we two might be one_

_I give you my spirit_

_'Til our life shall be done_

Both men were crying freely when they finished. Their mouths crashed together in an impassioned kiss, tongues mingling in their mouths as their tears mingled on each other's faces. Jamie hastily untied the stock that was holding their arms together and stood, pulling John up with him. "Christ," he growled as John released the tie from Jamie's hair and tangled his fingers in it, gripping it for leverage as he kissed Jamie's jaw and neck.

They moved toward the bed, stripping each other’s clothes off on the way. "John," Jamie said hoarsely. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled John into his lap. "Oh God, John, I want ye so badly."

"You have me, Jamie. You have all of me."

"And I want ye tae have me. All of me," Jamie said, resting his forehead against John's. "I give ye my body, that we two might be one."

John swallowed hard. "Are you saying what I think you are?"

"Aye, John. I want ye tae take me; I want tae feel ye inside of me."

"Are you sure you're ready?"

Jamie nodded slowly. "I am. I feel safe wi' ye, John. I trust ye." He slid John off of his lap and laid down on the bed. His breath came hard and steady. He was ready.

John crawled over to Jamie and hovered over him on all fours. "You are safe with me, Jamie. I would never hurt you." He lowered his head and took Jamie’s nipple in his mouth, suckling it the way Jamie liked it. Jamie groaned and thrust his hips in response.

"You can tell me to stop if you need me to," he whispered, trailing kisses down Jamie’s torso. "I would never do anything you didn't want me to do."

Jamie's fingers gripped John's hair. "Aye, but dinna stop now." He grabbed a pillow and slid it under his hips. John slipped both his hands under Jamie's buttocks, spreading his legs. He lowered his head and trailed his tongue slowly from Jamie's tailbone to his arsehole. Jamie's entire body trembled as John expertly teased him, using feather-like strokes before plunging into him.

"Oh, Christ, man!" Jamie thrust his hips at the welcome intrusion. He reached down and grabbed his cock, stroking steadily as John buried his face in Jamie's arse.

"Are you doing alright?" John asked.

"More," Jamie said through clenched teeth. "I need more." He reached his hand over and grasped blindly at the nightstand drawer until his hand grasped the vial of oil and tossed it to John.

John barely caught it, his hands fumbling before he had it safely gripped in his fist. "Somebody's impatient," he teased.

Jamie grunted and raised an eyebrow at John.

"Alright, alright," John said, giving Jamie a cheeky smile. He coated two of his fingers with the oil and dipped his head down, hovered his mouth just above Jamie’s cock. "Relax," he whispered right before taking Jamie in his mouth.

Jamie moaned as John's warm mouth took him in. His stomach muscles clenched but the rest of his body went limp as John moved his mouth up and down Jamie’s shaft, applying just the right amount of suction to drive Jamie mad.

John traced one finger around Jamie's arsehole and then gently dipped it in. "Oh God!" Jamie cried out. They’d done this before and Jamie had come undone quickly each time. He grabbed John's hair and tugged. "Ye have tae get yer mouth off my cock or I'm going tae lose myself before ye even get tae the rogering."

He let out a low groan as John’s laugh vibrated around his cock. “Why are ye laughin’ at me?” Jamie asked with a crooked smile on his face.

John lifted his head and moved up so he was face to face with Jamie. “Nothing, you fool. I just love you,” He took Jamie’s mouth with his and Jamie shuddered with anticipation at the taste of himself on John’s tongue.

John was still using his fingers to fill and stretch Jamie, whose hips thrust in anticipation. When John curled his fingers inside Jamie’s arse, Jamie threw his head back and cried, “Oh, John. Oh, I need yer cock inside me!”

Beads of sweat had broken out over John’s hairline, though they’d hardly done anything vigorous yet. Jamie saw his hands trembling as he removed his fingers and coated his cock in more oil. It was large and erect; Jamie’s mouth watered at the sight of it slick with oil, ready to penetrate him.

This moment had been a long time coming for Jamie, and he took a moment to close his eyes and breathe deeply. He’d had many talks with John about his abuse at the hands of Black Jack Randall, and at every turn John had been patient and supportive. He listened to Jamie and offered his love back, with no expectations or timelines for when Jamie would be ready, providing Jamie with that final step in healing that he had so desperately needed.

He opened his eyes again and saw John’s tender face hovering over his. John’s hair had come loose, framing his face, and his sky blue eyes stared into Jamie’s tenderly. Jamie reached up and brushed the back of his hand across John’s cheekbone. “I’m ready, John.”

As John lined his cock up, he planted soft kisses all over Jamie’s face. Jamie was relaxed and ready, and John slid in easily. He stopped when John grasped both of Jamie’s hands in his and kept his eyes focused on Jamie, who emitted a quiet grunt. He raised his eyebrow in question and Jamie nodded his consent. He pushed on slowly.

Jamie’s entire body tingled as John filled him. He’d never felt anything quite like it. Vulnerability and surrender mingled with the pleasure emitting from his nerve endings, overwhelming him. He felt dizzy though he was lying down. John continued his slow intrusion until Jamie felt his balls resting on Jamie’s arse cheeks.

Both of them were panting as John paused, allowing Jamie to center himself around the novel sensations. He never let go of Jamie’s hands and never took his eyes off Jamie’s face. As Jamie’s breathing steadied, he asked, “Are you alright?”

Jamie hissed out a burst of breath and replied hoarsely, “Christ yes. Oh God, John, ye feel so good inside me. I dinna ken it would be like this. It’s overwhelming. God, I love ye.”

“Do you want me to continue?” John asked

“Christ, yes, John. I want ye tae take me.” His voice was pleading, almost desperate.

John began to thrust, slowly at first, letting Jamie accustom himself to the sensation. For Jamie’s part, he was practically rabid with need. “Dinna go so slow, John. Fer Christ’s sake, fuck me!”

John quickened his pace; both men cried out in pleasure, their masculine voices filling the room with expressions of love and lust. As Jamie adjusted to the sensations his body ached for more. He reached down and began stroking his cock fervently, all the while roaring in John’s ear for more; “Faster, harder, deeper.”

It was all too much for Jamie to last, his hand pumped on his cock furiously. He came with a roar loud enough to wake the entire county. John’s thrusts lost their rhythm, and as he pushed himself as far as he could go, Jamie felt the hot, thick liquid fill him. Jamie’s head spun, and he gripped his fingers into John’s back to anchor himself in reality.

John collapsed on Jamie, breathing heavily, his head resting on Jamie’s heaving chest. They both took a few moments to collect themselves before John pulled his cock out and wrapped his body around Jamie. Jamie didn’t even realize he’d been crying until he felt a teardrop land in his ear. He sniffled and John looked up, wiping a tear away from Jamie’s face with his thumb. “Are you alright, Jamie?”

Jamie squeezed John and kissed the top of his head. “Aye, John. I feel incredible. And I feel safe and loved.”

“You make me feel the same way,” John replied, tracing the hills and valleys of Jamie’s arms absentmindedly.

“I meant what I said in the vows John. Blood of my blood, bone of my bone. That’s what ye are, now and forever.”

"Oh Jamie, I don't think I've ever been happier in my life. I love you, husband."

"And I you."

John slid off of Jamie, but Jamie would not let him go far. He laid on his side and pulled John into his embrace. John curled himself up into a ball and let Jamie cradle him in his arms. This was John's favorite way to sleep and it allowed Jamie to fall asleep with his face buried in John's hair.

John drifted off first, and only then did Jamie fall asleep, assured that all was well.


	6. Middlegame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In only two days, she would be stepping through the stones at Craigh Na Dun, back to the eighteenth century, where she’d left her heart twenty years before. 
> 
> His voice wavered and he felt tears stinging at the back of his eyes, but he forged on, a catharsis settling over him as he told his son the story of his first love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, sorry for taking so long to update again.
> 
> Second, thank you for all of the wonderful comments you have left. I do read every single one of them and I apologize that I am terrible at replying to them.

[ ](https://ibb.co/nrvHQwL)

_**September 20, 1968**_

**_Scotland_ **

As the plane made its descent into Edinburgh, across the overwhelmingly green landscape of the Highlands, Claire put her hand to the window and concentrated on the sensations of flying: the view, the dip in her stomach, the sense of relief when the wheels finally hit the pavement. If all went well, it was the last time she would ever feel those things again.

One telegram was all it had taken.

HAVE FOUND HIM STOP WILL YOU COME BACK QUERY ROGER

Ten words that would change the trajectory of her life forever.

She’d handed in her resignation, put all of her assets in a trust and made her best friend and trusted colleague, Joe Abernathy, executor until Brianna was of age, and walked away from the life she’d led for twenty years. She was going back to Scotland, back to the stones, and back, she hoped, to the love of her life. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the mere thought of seeing him again, and it was all she could do to not push her way through the patient line of people ready to disembark.

_Pull yourself together, Beauchamp_ , she told herself. She gathered her small carry-on from the overhead bin and tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for the other passengers to fumble around with their bulky luggage.

She’d packed light. There was little need to do otherwise.

In only two days, she would be stepping through the stones at Craigh Na Dun, back to the eighteenth century, where she’d left her heart twenty years before.

***

"The deed of sasine?" Claire asked. She sat in a stiff, high back chair in the sitting room of the manse once occupied by the Reverend Wakefield. Brianna and Roger sat across from her on an old couch, surrounded by various papers. Claire took a long sip of the whisky Roger had poured her as soon as she'd walked in the door. "To Lallybroch?"

Roger nodded and handed her a photocopy. She held it in her trembling hands staring at the document she'd signed as witness mere hours before she'd gone through the stones, back to a life she'd barely recognized. Once, her life in the eighteenth century had seemed surreal, but when she had returned to the din and filth of 1948, she knew that the twentieth century would never be her _real_ home again. A single tear fell from her eye, falling on her signature, mixing with the facsimile of a tear shed a lifetime ago.

She set the paper down on the coffee table and took another sip of her whisky. "Alright then," she said huskily, "what else do you have? I know you didn't drag me across the ocean for a piece of paper I already knew existed."

Roger smiled smugly and reached for another, larger, piece of paper sitting on an empty chair. He handed it to Claire.

“ _Tenants Wanted_ ,” Claire read quietly. “ _Fraser’s Ridge. Inquire by letter to Mr James Fraser, Fraser’s Ride, North Carolina_.” She looked up at Roger and Brianna with wide, unbelieving eyes. “He ended up in America?” she murmured.

Bree smiled and nodded her head. “He did. And owned a considerable piece of land. Ten thousand acres.”

Claire shook her head. “There’s plenty of James Frasers. How do you know this was his?”

Bree reached behind herself and pulled out a book. She opened it and found the page she was looking for and handed it to her mother. Claire took it in her trembling hands, and began to read to herself. Suddenly she gasped and read aloud, “Most of the initial tenants of Fraser’s Ridge were also Scottish immigrants, many of which Fraser had met when he was jailed in Ardsmuir Prison for the Rising of 1945.” She blinked her eyes and looked from Roger to Brianna and back again. “It must be him.”

Brianna nodded again. “Keep reading, Mama.”

Claire looked down at the book again and read mostly to herself, looking up periodically to comment on interesting bits of information. “He made whisky...thriving community of immigrants...business partner Lord John Grey? Widower...sons Fergus Fraser," her heart leapt in her chest, "and William Ransom Grey Fraser, Ninth Earl of Ellesmere? Son? An Earl? How? ” Claire’s eyes were wide and panicked as she looked up.

“Aye,” Roger said, pointing to the book in Claire's hand. "I didna find any evidence of Jamie ever having another wife - they call him a widower in that book. As for his son being an Earl, I did some digging on his business partner, Lord John Grey."

Claire furrowed her brow. "I don't see the connection."

"Neither did I at first," Roger said. "But I did some research into Grey's family and it seems he was married to Lady Isobel Dunsany. Isobel's sister was married to the Eighth Earl of Ellesmere, but she died in childbirth."

Claire was silent as she tried to process this information. Did Jamie have an affair with a married woman? It seemed the only plausible explanation, but she couldn't think of any other possibility. If he was a bastard, though, how did he still hold the title of Ninth Earl of Ellesmere? None of it made any sense.

Bree stood and walked over to Claire, perching on the arm of her chair. She put her arm around Claire’s shoulders and rested their heads together. "I'm sure it will all make sense when you can talk to him, Mama. You are still going, aren't you?"

Claire nodded slowly. "Yes," she said firmly. "I've made my decision. If he were married, that would be different, but he's not. Nothing else could make me not want to be with him. Especially now that I'm so close."

"I wish I could go with you," Bree said. "Even more now that I know I have a brother."

Claire reached for her whisky and swallowed hard. “A brother," she repeated. "I suppose you do. But you know you can't come Bree. It's too dangerous and you deserve to have your life here. Things would be especially difficult for you there."

"I know," she conceded. "I'm just going to miss you, and I wish I could meet my father."

Claire stood and wrapped her arms around Bree. "I know, darling. I wish you could too. And I'm going to miss you so much."

Roger cleared his throat. "I, erm, guess I'll be headed to bed."

"Thank you for everything Roger," Claire said, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. He looked longingly at Brianna before turning and heading toward the stairs.

When they heard his bedroom door close above, Claire turned to Brianna again. "He's a good one, you know. You better let him down easy."

Bree laughed, and Claire saw Jamie's face, eyes wrinkled at the corners, head thrown back. She shook her head and blinked quickly. Claire had one foot in the past already, but she really wanted to savor every last minute she had with her daughter. “Well,” she said finally. “We better get to bed now. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

***

That night, Claire tossed and turned in the same small bed of the Manse’s guest room, trying to process all that she’d learned that night. Jamie had fathered a child, sometime between when he left Ardsmuir and emigrated to the United States. Had he loved her, the child's mother? What could have compelled him to have an affair with a married woman? She felt a stab of jealousy but quickly pushed it away. She’d been married to Frank for nearly twenty years before his passing; Claire would not be a hypocrite and fault Jamie for finding happiness.

In an attempt to ease her anxieties, she tried to imagine Jamie’s life on Fraser's Ridge. Did he live in a cabin, or did he have a grand house, like a Scottish Laird? Did he have any family with him? Fergus was there, but had he left Jenny and Ian behind in Scotland, if they had survived the aftermath of the Rising at all? How did he spend his days? Finally drifting off, she dreamed of life in the Carolina backcountry with Jamie.

***

_**October 1, 1766** _

**_Fraser's Ridge, North Carolina_ **

Jamie came in from the morning chores to find John already up and bustling about the kitchen. The rest of the house was quiet and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around John from behind. He pushed his hair aside and kissed him softly on the neck. "Did ye sleep well?" he asked.

John leaned back into him and sighed. “Yes I did. I always sleep well next to you.”

“Aye,” Jamie said. “As do I.”

Jamie took a bowl and scooped some of the porridge out of the pot. He sat down at the large kitchen table and John joined him, carrying over a plate of bacon. Jamie gestured to the empty seats at the table. “Where are the lads?” he asked.

John smiled and shrugged. “Willie and Jo went hunting with Young Ian early this morning. Kezzie went to the barn to tend to the new litter of kittens; I’m surprised you didn’t see him. And I haven’t seen Fergus anywhere.” He paused and raised an eyebrow at Jamie. “It did not look like his bed was slept in last night, either.”

Jamie shook his head in disappointment. “The lad is going to get himself in trouble one of these days, and ye ken who’s going tae have tae clean it up and make it right.”

John reached out and placed his hand on Jamie’s. “You worry too much. If something happens, we’ll deal with it, but there’s nothing we can do about it until then.”

Jamie squeezed John’s hand and looked at him, his face relaxing from pinched tension to soft love and appreciation. “I ken ye’re right. It’s time the lad had his own place, though. I may no’ be able tae do anything about his behavior, but it doesna have tae happen under my roof.”

“I agree,” John said. “That can be one of our first priorities in the spring.”

Jamie went back to eating his porridge and then looked up curiously. “Where is Isobel?”

John shrugged. “She hasn’t gotten out of bed this morning. She was feeling poorly last night.”

“I hope she’s alright,” Jamie said with concern. “We should call on Willoughby to see to her.”

John nodded in agreement. “I’ll visit him today on my way to the Murphy’s. I told John Murphy I would help him slaughter his hog today, in exchange for some of the meat.”

Jamie gave a Scottish noise of approval and picked a piece of bacon from his plate. “Aye, we dinna want to run out of bacon.” He took a bite and gave John a crooked, impish grin.

John stood and cleared his plate from the table. “I best be on my way now. I suppose you have enough to occupy your time today so that you don’t get in any trouble?” he teased.

“Aye,” Jamie answered, his eyes twinkling. “But I may just find some anyway; ye ken I like it when ye rescue me.”

John threw his head back in laughter and then bent down to give Jamie a kiss goodbye. “You are an inexorable scapegrace, but I do love you anyway.”

Jamie stood as well, eager to get on with the rest of the day. “If ye see the lads,” he said to John as they donned their coats, “tell them not tae tarry. I need as much help as I can get at the still today.”

John nodded and they both leaned in for one more kiss before heading out the door.

***

Jamie made his way to the still, stopping along the way to say hello to the tenants that he ran into. Mrs. MacTavish insisted that he stop in for pie and coffee; it delayed him in his work some, but he believed that the connections he made with his tenants were the foundation for the Ridge’s success. He allowed his day to be constantly interrupted by any of his tenants, whether it was to listen to their complaints or simply to sit for a spell and talk. He was their Laird and it was his job to keep up on all of the news of the ever changing Fraser’s Ridge.

Many changes had already been made at Fraser's Ridge since they acquired the land two years ago. Close to fifty families had settled there; many of whom were farming the land. They also had Murtagh’s smithy and a small school for all the children, of which there were plenty.

Jamie and John had acquired a few foster children themselves. Just over a year ago, Josiah and Kezzie had made their way to Fraser’s Ridge, starving and begging for help. John had soon discerned that they were indentured to a strange and abusive man named Aaron Beardsley. Just as he’d done for Murtagh, John had purchased their indenture from Beardsley and they’d taken in the boys, who got along splendidly with Willie. The following spring, Fergus had sailed across the Atlantic, bringing Young Ian along with him. Young Ian had dreams beyond the confines of Lallybroch, and Jenny and Ian had made the decision to ask Jamie to take him in so that he might finish his schooling or learn a trade.

By then, Jamie and John, with the help of their tenants, had completed construction on the big house. It was a grand house that sat high on a hill overlooking much of the Ridge. Jamie and John’s room was on the second floor, along with the suite of rooms designated for Isobel and Willie’s room. The rest of the boys all slept in a large bedroom that took up part of the attic.

They had a garden they tended in the spring, growing enough vegetables to feed their growing family well throughout the year, but their main crop was barley, which they used to produce the whisky that would hopefully fund their future together.

Jamie bid Mrs. MacTavish goodbye and continued on his way to the still. As it happened, he ran into Willie, Ian, and Josiah coming back from their early morning hunting trip. He was taken aback to see Willie with the two older boys. He was only eight, but he towered over both of them, his long legs as clumsy and unwieldy as a newborn colt’s. Though he was the youngest, he carried himself with an air of authority befitting his position as son of the Laird.

“What have ye got, _mo mhac_?” he asked as the boys approached.

Willie held up a small bundle in his hands. “Some rabbits and a few squirrels.”

“That’s a good laddie,” Jamie told him, reaching out to tousle his son’s hair.

Willie’s face turned pink as he ducked away from Jamie’s hand. “Da! Stop!” he exclaimed.

Jamie chuckled and shook his head. “Alright boys, go take care of yer game and then join me at the still. I need all the help I can get today.”

The three boys nodded and mumbled a mixture of, “Yes, Da. Yes, Sir. Yes, Uncle,” and scampered quickly away.

***

Though Willie liked to pretend he was too big for his fathers’ attention during the day, he still insisted on it in the evenings. That night was no different, and while John tended to some of the end of day chores, Jamie sat in Willie’s bed with him, the large lad curled up with Jamie like a bairn. “I can’t sleep, Da,” he said. “Tell me a story.”

Jamie made a Scottish noise and began searching his mind for something that he had not yet told to the lad. Out of nowhere, an old song he had heard many years ago at Castle Leoch, came into his head. His instinct was to push the thought away; it was too painful to think of anything from that time, when he and Claire were just getting to know each other. He found, though, that it didn’t pain him as much as it used to, and he smiled at the memory of that night when he and Claire had listened to Gwylln the Bard together.

“Once when I was a lad in the Highlands,” he began, “I knew a woman from Oxfordshire, a Sassenach. She told me that she’d been picking flowers on a fairy hill when the wind picked up. She placed her hand on a large stone and was transported far away to the Highlands. She lived there, amongst the Highlanders and gained their respect as a healer.”

“Was she one of the Auld Ones?” Willie asked, his eyes wide with interest.

“Aye, I believe she was,” Jamie said. His voice wavered and he felt tears stinging at the back of his eyes, but he forged on, a catharsis settling over him as he told his son the story of his first love. “She stayed for three years, teaching us the ways of her land. She was like no woman any of us had ever known. ”

“What happened to her?”

“She assisted us during the Rising, traveling with the Jacobites as our healer. We knew she wouldna be safe if the battle was lost, so we told her to go back to her own place, back to her husband. Right before the Battle of Culloden, we sent her through the stones and we never heard from her again.”

“That’s sad,” Willie said sleepily.

“Aye,” Jamie choked. “‘Tis.”

***

_**November 10, 1766** _

**_Wilmington, NC_ **

Claire stepped off the ship in Wilmington and breathed in great gulps of fresh air. She’d been on the ship for six weeks, a treacherous journey due to the time of year. Her sea legs felt like _Jell-o_ as she made her way off the dock and on to solid land. She carried with her only a few small possessions, tucked away neatly into the pockets of the dress she and Brianna had made together, out of raincoats. It had become her habit to pat each of the pockets carefully to make sure that all was intact.

Satisfied, she headed to the first tavern she saw. Her only plan was to ask in all of the taverns until somebody was able to help her get to Fraser’s Ridge. In the meantime, one of her pockets held plenty of coin, thanks to Brianna and Roger’s visits to antique shops in the weeks prior to seeing Claire off.

She felt a full ache in her heart as she thought about Brianna. How could she have left her daughter behind? The entire journey, she’d thought about little else than the guilt she felt. It wasn’t until the ship had begun to reach shore that her heart had lightened and the butterflies had returned; According to Roger, Fraser’s Ridge would only be a four day’s journey away from Wilmington.

She opened the door to the first tavern and stepped back as the rank air inside hit her nose. It was nothing compared to the smell of vomit and unbathed bodies that had permeated the ship, but it wasn’t much better either. She took one last gulp of outside air and stepped inside.

All eyes turned to her the moment the men became aware of her presence. She looked around and saw she was the only woman in the tavern. She straightened up to her full height and raised her chin in the air slightly. “Pardon me,” she said confidently. “Is there anybody here who would be able to help me get to Fraser’s Ridge?”

The men murmured to each other quietly, both ignoring and having their entire attention on Claire. She straightened her skirts and started to turn around, when she was stopped by the screech of a chair being pushed back. A tall, burly man dressed in buckskins ambled his way over to her. He surprised her by taking off his hat, revealing a mass of unwieldy hair, and bowed slightly. “The name is John Quincy Myers, Ma’am, and I can take you to Fraser’s Ridge.”

Claire reached out her hand to shake his and he looked at her, puzzled, before bending down and awkwardly kissing it. Then he stood back to his full height - he was the tallest man she’d ever seen and that was saying a lot, considering she’d once lived amongst the MacKenzies - and said to her, “If you don’t mind, though, we should leave today. It’s a four days journey, and I don’t trust the weather in the mountains once November comes.”

Claire nodded. “I’m eager to get there as soon as possible, so that would be just fine. I have nothing to carry but the clothes on my back, so there won’t be any delay.”

“Hmmpppphhh,” he said, looking her up and down.

“I ride just fine, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she told him.

“Alright then,” he said. “If you don’t mind, though. I’d like to ask you one more thing.”

“Go on then,” she said.

“What is your name, Ma’am?”

For the first time, Claire noticed the man’s mouth twitching upward under his beard. She relaxed a bit and smiled back at him. “Claire,” she said. “Claire Fraser.”

“Are you a relative of Mr. Fraser, then?” Myers asked.

“Well, I suppose you could say that,” Claire said. “I’m his wife.”

Myers brow furrowed and he was silent, as if he wasn’t sure what to say. “He isn’t expecting me,” Claire continued. “I suppose it will be a surprise.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, trying to smile again. “I’m sure Mr. Fraser will be very surprised.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a woman of Balnain,
> 
> The folk have stolen me over again,
> 
> The stones seemed to say
> 
> I stood upon the hill, and wind did rise,
> 
> And the sound of thunder rolled across the land,
> 
> I placed my hands upon the tallest stone
> 
> And travelled to a far, distant land,
> 
> Where I lived for a time among strangers
> 
> Who became lovers and friends
> 
> But one day, I saw the moon came out
> 
> And the wind rose once more,
> 
> So I touched the stones
> 
> And travelled back to my own land
> 
> And took up again with the man I had left behind
> 
> Songwriters: Steven L. Kaplan / Bear Mccreary / Diana Watkins Gabaldon


	7. Critical Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Willie," he said, looking up at his son, "What brings ye back so soon?"  
> "Mr. Myers is here," Willie told him. "And there's a woman with him."  
> Jamie furrowed his brow. "Is it anyone ye kent?" he asked.  
> Willie shook his head. "No, but Mr. Myers said to run ahead and tell ye there was a surprise coming."

[ ](https://ibb.co/JFt4VHr)

Jamie was tending to the stables when he heard the sound of hooves approaching. He set down the pitchfork he'd been using to clean the stalls and stepped into the grey afternoon. The air had cooled significantly in the last few days, and he was sure that winter was settling in.

"Willie," he said, looking up at his son, "What brings ye back so soon?"

"Mr. Myers is here," Willie told him. "And there's a woman with him."

Jamie furrowed his brow. "Is it anyone ye kent?" he asked.

Willie shook his head. "No, but Mr. Myers said to run ahead and tell ye there was a surprise coming."

Jamie groaned. It wouldn't be the first time a woman had bribed Myers to take her up to the Ridge, purportedly seeking a homestead, but in truth, seeking a husband. He'd asked Myers to be more judicious next time, but when it came to women, Myers was naught but a simple man, vulnerable to their wiles.

Jamie sighed and took off the apron he'd been wearing, replacing it with his long leather coat. His sark and breeks were filthy, but there was nothing that could be done about that. Besides, it would be a new deterrent for whatever opportunistic widow Myers had brought him this time.

“Run and tell Mrs. Bug we’ll have guests for dinner,” he told William, who rode off with a nod.

He could already see the two travelers coming up the road and inhaled sharply when he saw the woman riding alongside Myers. There was no mistaking her. She carried her shoulders like no woman he’d ever known, pulled back confidently, daring the world to cross her. The curls on her head stuck out in all directions like the head of thistle.

_It couldn’t be_.

But he knew it must be. He could see her face clearly as they drew closer, those round eyes and pouty lips that he could never resist.

_Claire._

He fell to his knees in the dirt path.

She jumped off her horse and ran to him, dropping to the ground next to him. “Are you alright?” she asked. She reached out and touched his cheek with her hand, and he relaxed into it.

“Claire,” he whispered. “Ye’re here. I waited so long, wishing — “

“I thought you were dead.”

“Aye,” he said. “I ken.”

She leaned over and rested her forehead on his. Jamie struggled to push down the feelings broiling inside.

How do you hold back the ocean? It was impossible.

He put his arms around her and lifted her chin so he could look in her eyes, those whisky eyes that had haunted his dreams for so many years, filled with tears. He could see his reflection in them and wanted to look away. _Was she seeing the conflict tearing him apart, or did she only see herself, kneeling before the man she loved?_

“For so long, I wished to see this face one more time,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I thought, ‘Christ if I could only see her, touch her, just once more, I’d live the rest of my life in that moment.’”

She sniffled, the tears falling down her cheeks. Her voice quaked as she spoke. “I tried to forget you. I put you in a little box, and I threw away the key. But you always got out. You always found your way back to me. And now I've found my way back to you."

She moved her arms behind his head and pulled him down, closing the space between them. Their lips met, and Jamie knew he should push her away, but he couldn't. His body was drawn to hers like a magnet, and he could do no more to stop it than he could change the ebb and flow of the tide.

His body filled with a heat made of desire and shame. He had to stop this somehow, break away so he could think. His mind and body were so conflicted, he thought he might tear into two pieces, his heart ripping apart down the middle.

And then his ears pricked as he heard footsteps approaching, his mind honed in on the familiar gait. He pulled away from Claire and looked up. John was standing in the pathway, frozen, his mouth agape. Jamie scrambled to his feet, and Claire turned her head to see what was happening. John stared for a moment, the color draining from his face. Jamie ran toward him as John's knees buckled underneath him, and he fell towards the ground.

Jamie reached him just in time, catching John as he fell. He cradled him in his arms and slapped gently at his face.

And then Claire was there, on the ground with them, hovering over him as she checked him over. Jamie pulled his coat off and folded up, placing it on the ground so he could rest John's head on it. "Why isn't he waking up, Claire?" he asked. He hadn't stopped crying since he'd fallen to his knees before his wife, and it continued as he knelt again at the head of his husband." "Claire? What's happening?"

"I'm not sure, Jamie. That's what I'm trying to figure out. Loosen his stock." Jamie reached down to undo the knot but was unable to manage with his trembling hands. Claire brushed his hands aside and did it herself.

Jamie sat back on his haunches, helpless, as she continued her examination. "I need a light to check his pupils," she said finally. "We need to get him into the house."

Jamie nodded and swiped the back of his hand across his wet eyes. He moved closer to John and scooped him up in his arms, carrying him as if John was his new bride and he was taking him over the threshold for the first time. His tears began to flow again, and he whispered Gaelic blessings over John as they walked.

Everyone scrambled to their feet when Jamie entered the house with John in his arms. He brushed past them and headed toward the stairs, Claire trailing close behind. "Fetch my things from the saddlebag," she ordered over her shoulder, to no one in particular. "And bring me a candle."

Once upstairs, Jamie laid John down reverently in their bed. Claire continued her examination, paying particular attention to his eyes. "Sassenach, what's wrong wi' him?" Jamie croaked. "Please tell me."

"I can't be sure yet, not until I have the candle."

Jamie slumped into a chair next to the bed and put his head in his hands. It felt as if hours went by before there was a quiet knock on the door.

"Come in," Claire said brusquely.

Isobel was in the doorway holding a lit candle. Her face was drawn with worry. Hands shaking, she handed it to Claire. "Will he be alright?" she asked.

"I don't know," Claire replied honestly.

Myers appeared then, holding out the small satchel of belongings Claire had meticulously carried with her through time. "Thank you," she said. "Please excuse me." Though she didn't ask them to, Myers and Isobel both backed out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

Jamie stood on one side of the bed, ready to assist Claire. She handed him the candle. "When I tell you, hold it up to his eye. I'll tell you to take it away and put it back several times. Got it?"

Jamie nodded as Claire pried John's right eye open. "Now," she said. Jamie moved the candle and watched in wonder as the pupil retracted. "Perfect!" Claire declared.

Jamie breathed a sigh of relief.

"Alright, next eye," Claire said. "Light please."

Jamie brought the candle to John's eye but nothing happened.

"Take it away," Claire said. "Now bring it back."

John's eye stared ahead as if the light never hit it. "What does it mean, Claire?"

"Give me a moment, Jamie, please," she said gently. She began examining him more vigorously, using a pin from her bag to poke him in various places and lifting his limbs before letting them down quickly.

Finally, she came around to the other side of the bed and put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Where is his wife?” she asked.

Jamie looked at her in surprise at first. It had been so long since he had thought of Isobel as John’s wife. _Christ, what a mess this all is._ “I...I...I’ll tell her, Claire. Whatever it is, I’ll tell her.”

He felt shaky and weak; Claire grabbed his arm and helped him to the nearby chair. She looked around the dim room and located a small wooden chair, which she pulled alongside Jamie and sat in. "I believe he's had a stroke... an apoplexy."

Jamie gasped, his entire body shaking as he held back wracking sobs. “Christ, no, Claire. Ye have to fix him.”

“Right now, with what’s available to me here, there’s nothing I can do but wait. He’s unconscious now, which probably means his brain is trying to heal. If he wakes…”

“If?” Jamie croaked.

Claire nodded. “If he wakes up, I’ll assess him again.”

Jamie’s fists clenched the arms of the chair. “And then what happens? Will he recover? Will he be the same?”

Claire stared at him intently, her eyes wandering all over his face. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “There’s no way to know until he wakes up.”

Jamie stood from his chair abruptly and began pacing the room. He picked up a vase from the mantel and turned it over and over in his hands. He’d bought it for John on a trip to Wilmington the previous year after Jamie had seen him admiring it. John had thought the price too high, but Jamie knew he’d wanted it. An image of the smile on John’s face when he’d presented him with it flashed before his eyes, and Jamie reeled back his arm and threw the vase against the wall. It shattered to pieces on the floor.

Claire gasped and stood up, her chest heaving. “It’s been a long day,” she told him calmly. “I think I’ll go downstairs and have something to eat. Are you alright up here? Should I send someone up?”

Jamie’s back was turned to her, and he shook his head slowly. “I’ll be fine.”

“What shall I tell his wife?” she asked. “And everyone else?”

Jamie’s fist crashed down on the mantel. “I dinna care what ye tell them!” he yelled. Then he took a deep breath and spoke again, his voice practically a whimper. “Just leave me alone. I need to be alone.”

She nodded silently and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. As soon as he heard the click of the door, Jamie fell to his knees, sobbing. “No, no, no, no, no.”

***

Claire came down the staircase to a room full of strangers, staring at her for answers. Standing on the stairs so she could address all of them at once, she wiped her hands on her dress. These people would expect her to call her patient by his proper title and her mind spun as she tried desperately to remember the name of Jamie’s business partner. “Lord John,” she said finally, “has suffered an apoplexy. He has not woken yet. All we can do is wait.”

The table began to buzz with conversation, and to her great relief, everyone ignored her. She took two more steps down the stairs, and then the boy she and John Myers had met on the road, William, Jamie’s son, approached her. “Mistress, is my Papa going to be alright?” he asked.

She took the last two steps and looked down at him, examining his face. If it weren't for his chestnut curls, she would have thought she'd gone farther back in time than she'd intended. His round cheeks betrayed the sharp angles of his Viking ancestry, but Claire could see it in the straight line of his nose. His eyes were bright and curious, but most of all worried. "Your Papa?" she asked. "Nothing happened to your Papa. It's Lord John who's unwell."

Giant tears filled the boy’s eyes, and he swallowed hard. His little fists were clenched at his side. “Lord John _is_ my Papa,” he spat out.

Claire stared at him in confusion and then looked up for some assistance. Finally, a short, slender woman stood from her chair. Her eyes were red with crying, and she looked as if a strong wind would knock her over. “William is my nephew,” she told Claire. “My...husband...and I raised him when he was a little boy and Jamie was...unable to.”

“You’re Lady Grey, then?” she asked.

“I am,” the woman said. “You may call me Isobel.”

Claire nodded.

“And you are...Mr. Fraser’s wife?”

She realized that everyone’s eyes were on her, staring at her as if she were a curiosity at a zoo. She straightened her back and lifted her chin. “I am,” she answered confidently.

Just then, the door opened, and a young gentleman walked in. He took off his tricorn and went immediately to Isobel. “I came as soon as I heard. How is he? And how is Milord?”

Claire gasped and moved toward him. “Fergus?” she asked hesitantly.

He whipped his head around at the sound of her voice. “Milady! Is it really you?”

“It is,” she said, reaching out a hand to him. “Oh, Fergus. I never thought I’d see you again.”

He pulled her close and embraced her. The full impact of what twenty years apart truly meant hit her like a runaway train. Nothing could have prepared her for the reality of seeing the young boy she’d held in her memories all those years appear before her as a man.

_What a fool I am,_ she thought. _To come back here after all this time and think that nothing would have changed._ She’d thought she’d prepared so well, even though she knew from personal experience that a few pages in a book told only the tiniest sliver of the whole story.

“We thought you dead,” Fergus said, pulling away from her so he could look at her. “Where have you been all these years?”

“Here in the Colonies,” she said. “Jamie sent me away before Culloden, to keep me safe, and when I thought you were all dead, I left. I knew the Redcoats had a price on my head, so I came here and started a new life.”

He pulled a chair out, and she sat down. A plump, older woman set a bowl of broth and some bannocks in front of her. “How did you find out Milord was alive?”

“That is a very long story,” she told him, “and not one I want to get into right now.”

“You must be exhausted,” Isobel said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Claire was surprised the frail woman was holding up so well.

"A bit," she replied. She ate a spoonful of the broth and pulled off a piece of the bannock. "I'll need to see to Lord John again in just a bit."

As she ate the soup, Claire looked around the room. William sat at one end of the table with four other boys. She thought perhaps they were the children of Lord John. At the other end of the table, John Myers sat talking with a Chinese man in low tones.

She tried to quiet the questions that were mounting in her mind. Was this Lord John's house or Jamie's? Why was Jamie upstairs with Lord John while Lady Grey — Isobel — sat with them eating dinner? Why on earth was he so shaken? She knew coming back that he might have changed, but the way he’d rejected her comfort — it was like he was a completely different person.

None of it made sense.

She shook her head and pushed her chair back. "You'll have to excuse me," she told Fergus and Isobel. I should see to my patient."

***

Soon after Claire left the bedroom, Jamie pulled himself back up to his feet and walked over to the bed where John lay.

"God damn ye, ye bloody Englishman. I swear tae Christ if ye dinna live through this I'll kill ye." He leaned close to John's face. "Ye're not allowed tae leave me, do ye hear me?"

Trembling, Jamie placed a kiss on John's lips, but it wasn't enough. He climbed onto the bed and curled up next to him, placing a hand on John's chest. "I'm so sorry, my love. I'm sorry I lied tae ye, and I'm sorry the shock of seeing us together brought ye to this state. If I'd known...if I'd any idea she'd come back, I would have told ye the whole story.

"But I'll tell ye now, and maybe ye'll hear the truth in my voice, even if ye dinna remember what I say. And I promise, when ye come back tae me, I'll tell ye again."

So he told John everything, from meeting Claire to their wedding, and the witch trial. He told of learning the truth about Claire, that she was a time traveler. John already knew about Jamie's abuse at the hand of Jack Randall and the life of deceit he'd led in Paris, ending in the death of his child, but he told him anyway. He told of the months they'd spent with Prince Charles' army, and how, as if by a miracle breaking through starvation and despair, Claire came to carry his child again. He confessed to the murder of Dougal MacKenzie and the heart-shattering decision he made.

"I sent her back, John. Back to a safer time where she'd have a man to take care of her and raise my child. I was sure I'd be dead by the time the sun set. But thanks tae _yer_ brother, the bastard, I lived. I had tae live every day knowing that I'd _never_ see my child or Claire again.

"She was my whole heart, John. I'm sorry if it pains ye tae hear that, but she was. Christ, I should have just told ye the truth of it from the start. Then maybe ye'd understand.

"But _you_ are my heart now, too. I made vows tae ye, John. I've made a life wi' ye. We have this wonderful place and so many people we love." His voice cracked. "And we have our son. Christ, he's a wonder, John. I see so much of ye in him."

Jamie gripped John's shirt and buried his face in the crook of his neck. "I promise ye, John. If ye come back tae me, I'm no' going tae leave ye. I still love her, John, I'll no' deny it. But I _will not_ leave ye." He made a small sobbing sound. "I dinna ken how, but I'm going tae make this work. But ye have tae wake up and get better. Please, John. Please don't leave me."

He let loose his sobs again, so loud that he didn’t hear at first when John let out a quiet moan. But when he felt John began to stir beneath him, Jamie lifted his head and sat up. “John? John? Are ye alright, man? Please, my love, please.” Jamie bent his head and kissed John again. When he opened his eyes, he saw John squinting at him through his right eye.

“Say something, man. Anything tae tell me ye’re alright.”

John’s tongue darted out of the side of his mouth in an attempt to lick his lips. When he opened his mouth to speak, only one side seemed to open, the other side stayed frozen in a frown. He tried to speak, but his words were garbled, intelligible.

“John, what’s happening tae ye? Can ye no’ speak?”

John tried again and then lifted his right hand and slammed it back down on the bed in frustration.

“I’ll go get Claire,” Jamie told him. “She’ll ken what tae do.”

***

_But you are my heart now, too. I made vows tae ye, John. I've made a life wi' ye. We have this wonderful place and so many people we love. And we have our son. Christ, he's a wonder, John. I see so much of ye in him._

Claire sunk to the floor outside of the bedroom and covered her ears, unable to bear what she was hearing.

_I promise ye, John. If ye come back tae me, I'm no' going tae leave ye. I still love her, John, I'll no' deny it. But I **will not** leave ye. I dinna ken how, but I'm going tae make this work. But ye have tae wake up and get better. Please, John. Please don't leave me._

A tempest of emotions stirred in her body: anger at herself for being so stupid, so arrogant as to believe she'd be able to slip back into Jamie's life after twenty years like nothing had ever happened; jealousy at the realization that while she'd been living a miserable life in Boston, Jamie had found love again; fear at the idea of going back through this stones; embarrassment that she'd have to tell her daughter, their daughter, that the love of her life wasn't who she'd remembered; and heartbreak, realizing that she'd thought she'd held Jamie's heart in her hands all those years when really he'd given it away long ago to another.

_John, what’s happening tae ye? Can ye no’ speak?_

She brushed her tears away quickly and stood. She pushed the loose strands of her hair back and straightened her skirt.

_I’ll go get Claire. She’ll ken what tae do._

Claire took a deep breath and put her hand on the doorknob. With no endgame in sight, she turned it and pushed the door in to tend to her patient.


	8. Desperado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A very long time ago, when we were first married, you asked for honesty. Now, more than twenty years later, I think we’re in the same position. We’ve been apart all these years, and our lives have changed tremendously. But for the sake of what we once had, I think we owe it to each other, to be honest.”

[ ](https://ibb.co/dWhL7Vz)

Claire carefully examined John and then spoke gently. "You've had an apoplexy. It seems your left side has been affected and your speech. I don't think you're in danger anymore, but it may be a long recovery." She sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. "Many people, with the proper care, recover the use of the affected side in different measures. As for your speech, it is my experience that this comes back gradually, though you may struggle for some time."

"Do ye hear that, John?" Jamie spoke up, his voice shaky but relieved. "Ye're going tae be fine."

John opened his mouth and then shut it again, his face screwed up in agitation. Slowly, he raised his right hand and pointed to Jamie and then again to the door.

"What do ye need, John? Jamie asked.

John repeated the gesture. Claire sighed and turned to Jamie. "Perhaps you could go fetch some broth and a journal if there's one lying about that John could try to write in to communicate. And of course, a quill and ink."

Jamie looked from John to Claire, his face confused and crestfallen. Finally, he nodded and took his leave of them.

When the door was shut behind him, Claire asked, "Do you need the chamber pot?"

John's face burned red, and he rolled his head away from Claire. Slowly, he nodded.

"Would you like me to fetch someone to help you? Your….um...wife perhaps?"

John shook his head.

"Right," Claire said, taking a deep breath and straightening her skirts. "Let's see then...shall we?"

With great effort, she managed to get John on his left side and propped up by pillows. She pulled the chamber pot onto the bed and moved to unbutton his trousers. He stubbornly slapped her hand away and fumbled with the buttons with his right hand. Claire stood back, holding her hands behind her back to prevent her urge to intercede.

Finally, his fingers undid the buttons, and Claire turned around to give him privacy. When he was finished, he made a grunting sound, and Claire turned around to find him lying on his back again, his flies already buttoned. Claire quickly removed the chamber pot and then assisted him with getting into a more comfortable position.

"Oh, you're a wilful one, aren't you?" she remarked, gently picking up his hand to check his pulse. "Yes, I think you are going to make an _excellent_ recovery."

***

Jamie returned with the items Claire had requested. He set the tray down on a small table near the bed. "I've had a room made up for ye right next door," he told Claire. "There's a hot bath ready for ye. And some broth and whisky."

Claire nodded. "Alright then, I'll take my leave for now, but I'll be back later to check on him."

As she left the room, Jamie longed to call out to her, hold her, and let her comfort him in the way only two in his life ever could. He cleared his throat, and she turned around, the question on her mind plain on her face.

"Thank ye, Claire," was all he could manage to say.

She smiled and dipped her head. Then she turned her back again, closing the door softly behind her.

Jamie's heart tore in two again, but there was nothing he could do at the moment. John's needs were more immediate, as was Jamie's need to reassure John that he would not toss him aside.

He picked up the tray and perched himself on the edge of the bed. He picked up the spoon for the broth and placed it in John's right hand. "Ye have tae eat," he urged.

John did his best to give Jamie a withering look. His left eye and cheek drooped, making him look all the more annoyed. Jamie cocked his eyebrow. _Two can play at this game._

Finally, John lifted the spoon and dipped it in the broth. He brought it shakily to his mouth. His mouth was only open on the right side, and he struggled to get the spoon in, spilling soup as he did so. When he finally managed to slurp a small bit of what was left, half of it dribbled down the side of his mouth. Frustrated, he dropped the spoon and turned his head away.

"Here, let me help ye." Jamie picked up the spoon in one hand and a napkin in the other. He brought the spoon to John's lips, with the napkin at the ready to catch anything that fell out of his mouth. John kept his lips clamped and turned his head away.

"John," Jamie persisted, "ye survived an apoplexy today. I willna let ye starve to death instead."

John continued to refuse and Jamie continued to coax. Finally, John lifted his right hand and swiped at the bowl, sending it flying across the room.

"Fine then," Jamie said patiently, "we'll try again tomorrow."

He stood and quietly cleaned up the mess. He left the room briefly to grab a basin of fresh water and a cloth. When he returned, he set the basin by the bed. "Ye'll feel better when ye're cleaned up." He busied himself with undressing John and washing him as best he could under the circumstances. "Ye've had a terrible day, John. But I promise ye'll feel better in the morning. Today is the worst it's going tae be. Things can only get better from here."

When John was cleaned up and dressed in a fresh nightshirt, Jamie kissed his forehead. "There, doesn't that feel better? Claire will be back soon, but I thought we might lie together for a little bit? Would ye like that?"

John lifted his hand and pointed to the journal Jamie had brought up. "Ye want tae write something?"

He opened the book and set it on the tray, then dipped the quill in the ink and handed it to John. Jamie held the book in place for him as John painstakingly wrote.

When he was done, he dropped the pen. Jamie peered at the page and saw what John had written.

[ ](https://ibb.co/VTHvH4H)

Confused, Jamie looked at John. "I canna leave ye alone, John."

Half of John's face screwed up in anger, and he pointed at the words.

"I dinna understand."

John pointed again, visibly upset.

"Do ye want someone else to stay wi' ye tonight?"

John slammed his finger as hard as he could on the words.

A wave of nausea washed over Jamie as he realized John's intent. He swallowed down the bile in his throat. "Ye dinna ken what ye're saying, John. Ye're just exhausted. Ye willna feel this way in the morning."

John groaned in frustration.

"Do ye want someone else tae stay with ye tonight?" Jamie asked, his voice cracking as he choked back tears.

John picked up the quill again and wrote:

Jamie nodded, the tears already escaping. "Aye, I'll fetch her." He went to the door and put his hands on the knob. "I love ye, John. Nothing will ever change that." Then he slunk out of the room.

***

After Claire had checked on John one last time and left him in the hands of Isobel, Claire returned to her room and sunk into a chair by the roaring hearth. She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and then reached for the whisky on the side table.

What was she doing here? Instead of cozying up with Jamie in front of the fire as she’d planned, she was alone in a strange room with only the whisky for company. And now that she had a patient to help, she couldn’t just _leave_. At least, not until she knew he was well on the road to recovery. And what did that even mean? Would anyone here be able to give him the proper rehabilitation that he would need?

As a neurosurgeon, she’d treated hundreds of stroke victims over the years, with great success. John was already at a disadvantage without proper medical facilities; could she just abandon him, leaving only a list of vague instructions? No, that wouldn’t do at all.

But she would demand an explanation and some honesty from Jamie. There was no way she was going to spend, possibly, months in the past, tiptoeing around her husband. Anyone with a set of eyes could see that there was a relationship between Jamie and John that went beyond normal friendship; she’d heard it with her own ears. She could feel it in Jamie’s body language.

Jamie had no obligation whatsoever to her. He’d sent her back expecting that he would be dead within the hour. He had assumed she would never come back. He hadn’t betrayed her, though she couldn’t convince her wounded heart of that quite yet. He owed her absolutely nothing, and yet, she would ask it of him anyway.

And there was still the news of Brianna. Had he forgotten that she was pregnant when she'd left, or was he just too distracted by the events of the day? Either way, he deserved to know that his child — _their_ child — was happy and healthy.

She stared into the fire and thought about Brianna. What was she doing? How was she handling the absence of her mother? It felt so disingenuous to be sitting there, alone, when the reason Brianna urged her to go was that she thought she was sending her mother to be happy with the love of her life.

Claire threw back the rest of her whisky and poured another dram.

There was a soft knock on her door, and she startled, sitting up and smoothing her hair. “Come in.”

Jamie entered the room, his eyes raw and puffy. Claire gestured to the chair across from hers. He sat down heavily, and she poured him some whisky.

Jamie sat back in his chair and rubbed his forehead with his hand. Then, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Claire, I dinna ken what tae say.”

Tears were already stinging the back of her eyes. “A very long time ago, when we were first married, you asked for honesty. Now, more than twenty years later, I think we’re in the same position. We’ve been apart all these years, and our lives have changed tremendously. But for the sake of what we once had, I think we owe it to each other, to be honest.”

“Aye,” Jamie replied. “I can do that.”

Claire nodded. “So can I.”

Neither said anything more for several minutes. Finally, Claire cleared her throat and asked, “How did you and Lord John meet?”

Jamie couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. “Do ye remember, Claire, when we were outside of Carryarick? Before Prestonpans?”

Claire gave him a curious look. “Well, yes, but —”

“And do ye remember the young lad who tried tae kill me?”

“I....yes, but —”

“He called himself William Grey, but his true name was John William Grey.”

Claire’s eyes were round with wonder. “I never would have guessed it. I am, however, assuming that you two did not strike up a secret affair at that time, so when did you cross paths again?”

Jamie dove into the story of his survival of Culloden and all that followed with the same gusto as the night of their wedding when he’d told her the story of his parents’ elopement. It was easy to see this was a story he relished, and one that he did not get to tell often, possibly ever. His eyes lit up when he spoke of his blossoming friendship with John over his years at Helwater and the birth of Willie.

“When it came time for me tae leave, I had all intentions of going back tae Scotland and trying tae cobble together some sort of life. I hadn’t listened tae my heart in many years; it was much too painful. But I forced myself to, and I found I was in love wi’ him.” Jamie looked away, unsure if the heat rising in his face was from the fire or the embarrassment he felt telling this to Claire.

Claire had been sitting quietly and trying to keep an open mind. One question, though, was niggling at her mind. “Jamie...I don’t understand how...I mean after what Randall did to you....”

Jamie turned his head sharply back to face her. “John is nothing like Black Jack Randall, not in any way. He would never, ever do anything to hurt me.”

“I wasn’t implying that he was. I only meant that...well, you were so traumatized by him. I just thought that...the act, I mean…”

His face softened; it was obvious she meant no ill will. “Does a woman who’s been abused by a man swear off all men altogether? I suppose some might, but I think most go on, after a time, with someone that they love and trust.”

“That’s true,” Claire remarked.

“We were handfast,” Jamie admitted. “I promised ye honesty, and I think ye deserve tae ken that.”

Claire clamped her lips together and winced. She took several deep breaths before saying, “I’m so sorry Jamie. I’ve come back here thinking that we would instantly fall in love again, and there would be no obstacles in our way. I guess I didn’t even let myself believe that there would be another, especially one that you would be happy with. I see now that was foolish.” She straightened her back and l lifted her chin. “As soon as John is out of danger, I will go back. I won’t even try to come between you two. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

“No!” Jamie flew off the chair and dropped to his knees before her. “I dinna want ye tae go.” His hands gripped her skirt like a young lad begging his mother not to go.

Confused, Claire rested her hand on the top of Jamie’s head. “I don’t understand, Jamie. Are you saying you want to leave John for me because I don’t think now is the right time to be —”

Jamie shook his head vehemently. “No, I’ll no’ leave John, but I canna think of ye leaving either.”

Gently, but firmly, Claire pried his fingers from her skirts. “I’m sure you can see that wouldn’t be fair to me. Or our daughter.”

Jamie’s face went white, his eyes blank. He blinked several times before croaking, “Our daughter? We have a daughter?”

Claire stood and walked to the other side of the room, her arms crossed. She had felt much more forgiving toward Jamie for forgetting only an hour before. “Yes,” she spat out. “We have a daughter. In case you forgot, I was pregnant when you sent me away.”

Jamie stood and moved toward her. “Christ, Claire, I didna forget. I’ve thought of ye and our child every single day. I just always thought of a lad, named Brian. I would have asked ye right away if it hadna been for —” Jamie choked on his words as tears filled his eyes. He quickly brushed them away. “I never expected ye would have another lass.”

He grabbed Claire’s hand and looked at her with pleading eyes. “Will ye tell me about her?”

Claire relaxed again and squeezed his hand. “Come over to the table, and I can show you.”

He let her lead him to the table. She turned to her satchel and pulled out the stack of pictures she’d carefully protected on her entire journey. She removed the plastic wrapping and stuffed it in her pocket before handing them to Jamie.

He looked at the pictures and then back at Claire. “What are these, Sassenach?”

“They’re photographs. They’re like...paintings made with light.”

Jamie made a familiar Scottish noise in his throat and began flipping through the pictures. His breath caught in his throat when he saw her baby picture. “ _Bòidheach_. Christ Claire, we made this beautiful child?”

Claire nodded and pulled his hands away to avoid the pictures getting wet with his tears. “Mind you don’t get them wet. It can ruin them.”

Jamie pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face, then held it at the ready to try to catch his tears as they fell. Claire took the pictures out of his free hand and gave them back one by one.

“She has red hair,” he observed. “She would have looked just like her older sister.”

Claire’s breath hitched in her throat, and she placed her hand over Jamie’s. The old pain was an odd comfort as they remembered something shared between them.

Jamie continued going through the pictures, watching Brianna grow before his eyes. She told him stories with each one, attempting to give Jamie at least a glimpse into what Brianna was like. The last was of her and Claire, taken only a few weeks before Claire had left. They had only just recently found out that Jamie was alive, and Brianna was hugging Claire, whose face was lit up with pure joy.

“Thank you for raising our daughter, Claire. I ken it couldna been easy for ye. Is Frank a good father to her?”

She sniffled and nodded. “He was. He died a few years ago. Brianna adored him.”

"Were ye happy wi' him?"

She tried to put on a happy face, give him her best June Cleaver act, but in light of the revelation that _he'd_ found happiness, she couldn't do it. Besides, she'd promised him honestly. "Our family, as a whole, was happy. We were good parents. But as a couple, we always struggled. I tried; we both did, but things were never the same. My years away from him created a rift between us that eventually became a chasm."

"I'm sorry, Claire. I thought — I hoped — that ye would be happy."

"I suppose that's why I put so much faith in coming back to you. Being unhappy, I couldn't imagine you being happy."

“I spent most of the last twenty years miserable, Claire. It’s only in these last few years, with John…”

“I should go,” she declared, “as soon as I can, as soon as John is out of danger. There’s no need for us to prolong either of our misery. This is an untenable situation.”

“I dinna want ye tae go, Claire,” Jamie pleaded. “Having seen ye again, touched ye again, I dinna think I could bear it.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” she challenged him. “You do not want me to leave, but I did not come here to ruin your relationship with John, nor do I think you would let me, even if I asked.”

Jamie shook his head slowly. “I don’t know yet.” He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles fervently. “But please give me time. Can ye grant me that?”

She looked into his eyes and saw desperation and exhaustion. Their reunion was not as she imagined it would be, but for the sake of the undercurrent of love that still coursed between them, for the sake of what they had once had, she nodded in agreement. “I will stay and help John, for your sake. I think I owe you at least that after coming here and blowing your life into bits.”

Jamie kissed her hand again and then stood. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead, then the cheek, and then the mouth. They were chaste kisses, but she could feel that old energy stirring, and she quickly pulled away. “Goodnight, Jamie.”

He stepped back and gave them both some distance. “Aye, goodnight Claire. We’ll talk more tomorrow. There’s so much I want tae tell ye.”

“Me too, Jamie. Tomorrow.”

He walked backward out of the room, grasping for the doorknob. When he’d managed to get it open, he slipped out quietly.

***

_Dear God, is this my punishment for all the years I spent as Governor of a prison, to spend my life jailed in my own body, unable to control it or communicate? Is this my punishment for being a sodomite, to watch my one true love slowly slip away, back into the arms of a woman? To have that woman be the only one who may be able to help me recover?_

_I’d have rather never had him, then to lose him like this now,_

_I have just enough dignity left now to know that I won’t compete. I won’t beg him to stay. And when I am able, I will open the door for him and show him the way out._


End file.
